So I repacked my box o' journals. Of course, I can't do something like that without dipping in and reading a page here and there. Makes me wonder why I keep them - I'm positively queasy at some of it. I wonder if I'll have the same reaction to this (lj) ten years down the line. Part of me wants to burn them, part of me wants to hang on to them as a giant series of object lessons so I never behave as I did again...
Memories. Ugh.