May 14, 1998 Thursday
Page 282 was as far as my first journal, Is Anybody Out There?, ever got. In a brash, necessary move at my keyboard on year ago, I put to sleep my first sustained writing project. Since my sophomore high school year, IAOT? had been the keeper of a sometimes-detailed, sometimes-shoddy record of my daily life. It ended at the perfect time, and I’m glad I did it, but I still treasure the words it holds. In it I can see plainly how much I grew during its lifespan. Its campy first pages are a stark contrast to its final closing passages. Through that pile of paper I can see clearly and chart how I grew as a person and a writer. I am proud of the way it accurately described and interpreted many people. I am always proud that I stayed true to myself, always writing down as close to the facts as I could understand them to be. Sometimes corny, sometimes nothing, sometimes happy and sometimes gritty, it was always me.
And I continue, ever closer to the Edge.