The night is my companion and solitude my guide
Spent a lot of time tonight reading the journal of someone I know through a close friend. I consider him a friend, I suppose, but we’ve only hung out a handful of times in the last year, not enough time spent together for that to really be true yet. This journal of his, it’s many years old, and I stumbled upon it accidentally this afternoon. I don’t know if I should feel weird about having read portions of it, but I found myself identifying with a lot of things he wrote. Since I’ve been having trouble completing any of my own thoughts lately, I thought I’d share something small of his that is a fairly complete description of where I am right now:
Sometimes I think I might be a really selfish person. I have people who care about me and love me, but I still always long for those few who really know me. It just feels so right not to have to explain myself if I don’t want to. Because those people have been where I am and felt how I feel.
…..
Maybe I expect things to be more magical than they’ll ever be.
Hmm. Wonder if there’s another kindred spirit in this fellow.