looking back

Ever since I could hold a pen and form a sentence, I've been writing.

When I was about 18 or 19, I decided to attempt to distance myself from my past. Along with many other things I got rid of, I got rid of all my writing... except for 2 journals. All my childhood diaries and journals, stories, papers, notes, letters, and 2 binders full of letters I'd written to my High School girlfriend that were returned to me (She didn't want evidence. I guess it was nicer than throwing them out.) went to the trash.

To this day, I've never recovered from the loss. It is about the only thing I can say that I regret.

Because of that regret, I've become obsessive. I save everything now... every bar napkin, every e-mail, every journal... I'm working on toning it down a little... trying not to be as obsessive, but it's not working all that well.

I started a project a few years ago. Putting it all in order. It's tough to keep up with. Along with the thousands of pages of old writing I have to copy, print, or just interfile, every day I write even more. I'm, maybe 2/3 of the way there. I currently have 8,550 pages in order, and about 1500 more waiting to be interfiled. On top of that, there are about 5,000 or so more (rough estimate) that need to be copied by hand, Xeroxed, or printed before they go into the binders.

The toughest part is the older stuff. There's an old journal that has to be copied by hand because of the size of the pages. It was written in 1987. Reading it is like a painful shrink session.

It's odd. Even though I knew that I was mature for my age, I don't know that I really believed it 100%. Reading back... Even I feel sorry for that old self. I was an adult in the body of a kid. When I read those old entries, I want to find a time machine so that I can go back in time and talk to myself for a while. Answer some of the questions, reassure my old self that "it's not that you're crazy, it's that no one else can understand you because most of them are less mature than you are". I think I'd also warn that self not to throw out the old writing too.

I can't imagine having to be a "kid" again. I can only assume that early maturity has something to do with a person's soul. It was tough enough this time around, now I have yet another life under my belt. I don't know that I could make it. I nearly didn't this time. The thought of being reincarnated, at this point, is a little worrisome. I'm REALLY fucking tired. Can I get a break? There must be somewhere to exist that isn't painful. I know that growth hurts... but after this, can I get a break from growing? Just for a while?

I want to fight for that kid... the one who wrote that journal. I want to make it so that he doesn't have to hurt as badly as he does... so that his head isn't swimming... so that he can smile a little more. I don't know that I can do that though. I wanted that just as badly then as I do now, and I knew just as much. It sucks that awareness is so painful, but that's the way it is. I'm pretty sure it'll be that way again, if we do come back.