This is the life of the disordered.

Yesterday, I finally decided to clean out the trunk of my car. Useless shit like clothes and shoes have been sitting back there since I moved three months ago. While digging through the piles of shit, I found a bag that I had stuffed all my journals into the night everything was done. I packed them first, before anything else in those two rooms I lived in.
I have two semi-current journals. One is where I write stories, dreams, poems, random secrets. The other is a more typical journal, about my days as they come and such. I haven't written in either of them since May of 2008. Before I ran, before any of the life changing events that happened in the span of six months.
Reading through these opened my eyes to so many things I was too blind to see before. There were so many clicks made in my head. Everything fell together perfectly, it seems. Reading those journals, how could I even question the fact of where I am now. Reading, now, I saw it all coming in just tiny words here and there on a blank page.



Here is one excerpt from my story/memoir journal;

I'm suffering from an incurable illness, a disease that stays dormant in our mind and body until one day it is activated, given the correct dosage of what it feeds from. I do not have cancer, what I have is something no doctor could find in medical encyclopedia nor diagnose with any test.

My suffering comes from an indecisive mind, and small hands that can't hold such big dreams.

My symptoms, which are now just part of my life, are shattering each dream like a plate of glass to my knees, leaving scars to just be scarred over again the next day. There is almost always blood on my hands, but it is always just my own.

It's so crazy how vividly I remember my emotions at that time by just reading it over. I feel like my future is going to go the way I think it is, too. At least the near future.

I spend so much time trying to look out for myself and keep myself protected, but all the while digging myself into my own grave. I know I am going to end up getting myself hurt if I keep chasing any further. I could have everything right now. There is a boy who I know would give me the world if he could. But I can't do it. My mind is focused elsewhere, on something more challenging. If I could read people, everything would be far easier, but I don't know what to make of anything right now.

Life is amazing right now. I've been in the best mind set and photos are flowing constantly.