You once told me “A diary is a long winded letter you write to an old person who used to be you.”
Still, please take better care of it, everyone has to read it in the future, and the bits you’ve spilt grape juice over are completely indecipherable. All we know about -that- New Years Party is from eyewitness accounts of the event and the first and last words of the entry “You’d never believe…” and “…that’s how I ended up on the highway, with a bedside lamp and a breadbox full of money.”
I will write again someday soon. I was afraid to because everything I write becomes truth. Truth about me, truth about the world. I hate liars. I hope someday you can read what I have written to prove I'm right. Taking care. Me.
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