i don't even go by keriana anymore...
The other day, a friend and I were showing each other embarrassing journal entries from our past. I dug so deep, I found this journal. I can't even look at the username without cringing anymore. Who was I. Everywhere I look is vague entries and that particular brand of pretension you only get when you're a teenager who feels too many emotions and thinks you are, somehow, the only person who has ever felt those emotions, ever, and therefore you need to find a brand new way to articulate them.

It's so weird. I need to continue my slow process of archiving this journal, but this journal has so many entries and so much history and spans so much -- by the time I was using LJ, I wasn't updating nearly as much as I updated this; these days, I updated my DW maybe a dozen times a year. A part of me really misses that old journaling culture!

And now we have twitter.

Anyway, as horrendously shameful as the contents of this journal are, I'm glad this site has stuck around. They're still memories, even if they're.

Weird.

Thanks, 14 year old me. Thanks.

5 slow | ride