How long has it been? How much time has passed since I last made some kind of journal entry?
About 4 years ago. What an impressive amount of time, especially considering that I used to place such importance on keeping an active presence both on my journal and the journals of others. The journal was where I shared my experiences when I felt I had no voice to do so in real life. I felt isolated my home even though there were always people around me, but I had no outside contact. I had moved from spending my days trapped inside my 300 square-foot box to spending my days trapped inside a large house.
Upon looking back, it's embarrassingly stupid. I had been living in a confided space with no escape for so long that after I had left, I attempted to recreate my old situation because I was afraid of something different. All the while, I kept up a LiveJournal to record all the things I never wanted to forget—mostly the abuse at the hands of my mother or my complete bewilderment at adjusting to a life without family. It's easy for terrible memories to get expelled right out of my head, lost and forgotten until someone mentions to it, which can be a double-edged sword. It's great to let go and move forwards, but it's ridiculous not to learn anything in the process. You get trapped in an endless cycle of mistakes.
Cycles, cycles, cycles. It's all about cycles. My life is about cycles and the fear of breaking them. I'll cycle through the same mistakes, the same type of toxic people, through situations, through habits, through friends, and whatever else. Forget and replace. Forget and replace. Forget and replace.
Forgotten as soon as it's out of my line of sight, but unbearable when it's not.
What a terrible way to do things! How long can I run in circles, afraid of to go off track because I don't know what lurks in the grass beyond?
For 2014, it's the year to take risks and fall flat on my face if that turns out to be the case. And maybe to actually update a journal instead of defaulting to plurk.