I keep this little brown notebook with me everywhere I go. See, look.

June 26th: Looking through contacts list; regret, wasted potential. Undertones of shame, guilt. Curious aftertaste; feeling that accompanies good book ending (is that sadness?). Took all day to fade.

August 31st: Leaving grocery store; impotent, clumsy, incapable. Worthless. Associations: College, brown hair, wooden desk. Passed quickly.

Sometimes, I like to flip back through the journal and see how I felt at certain times. There are certain recurring themes; apparently I feel useless and stupid a lot. Also, a lot of the time the worst sadnesses come after I leave the house or masturbate.

I leave the journal on my coffee table, where people can flip through it. They always look confused, then embarrassed, then shut it. I wish someone would talk to me about it. Sometimes, I wonder if anyone will; then, I take a pen and flip it open again.