A long time ago...well, not so long ago, but long enough to begin that way...my first grade teacher made us start keeping a journal. I liked it. I wrote about the snowmen I made and the boys that I adored and the girls that tattled on me, and how spoiled my little brother was. I kept writing in it for quite some time, then life got busy and I put it aside, like an unfaithful lover. But my journal was still there, faithfully reminding me of all of the good and bad times that I'd had as a child, and for each word written, several more memories would accost me and I would drift through my past, wondering at who I was so short a time ago, but long enough that that person is no more.
For every time I put it down, I picked up my journal and wrote furiously for a few months, and as a result, I now have six volumes, stuffed with drawings and newspaper clippings and photographs and letters.
For some reason, though, it is hard for me to go pick up a pen, anymore. I would much rather sit and type, here at my computer. And so, I have begun to inscribe my journal here, in the wires and circuitry and sizzling current of the Internet...
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