Wisdom is Basically Painful Knowledge

I don’t normally share the thoughts written in my journal. I would rather die by a billion bee stings than open my soul out to eyes that may never fully understand me unless the will to do so is as pure as the gentleness of their hearts.

Having said that, I once told Jeff I wouldn’t mind selling my journals on eBay when I heard they fetch a pretty good price and there are actually people interested in reading strangers’ private thoughts. It’s like porn, if you think about it.

I did the math. I could sell them all for $1,000, easy. Three grand if I sell posthumously but that defeats the purpose of enjoying my windfall.

At any rate, I sound so wise sometimes I surprise even myself. I mean, I know I don’t “Dear Diary” my shit but I also know that my thoughts are usually a jungle of mess and I’m a lone monkey trying to figure out this maze called life. Jeff, the other monkey, can only do so much when I’m drowning in my thoughts. But he does make me tea so that helps.

Anyway, in the spirit of my New Year’s Resolution of opening myself up a little bit more, allow me to share with you my year-end thoughts in the fucking whirlwind that was 2019.


P.S. I feel naked. Now you know what my handwriting looks like.

P.P.S. Okay, I’m hitting “Publish” straight away before I change my mind. Here we go.

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