Conclusion

End of journal 4- Marked Feb. 12

I haven't put vary many personal entries into these notebooks

Other than these poems I've been writing, I guess. To anyone who maybe reading these journals, I must seem like an insensitive sociopath. A 14 year old writing about topics like death and self destruction- emptiness in general must seem like a classic case of an Emo kid going through yet another phase of self pity and depression. And I mean, your not wrong. I really hope that you're right in it's just a phase.

I guess I wrote these poems just to get myself out there. I don't really talk to people about my problems, so I use writing as a conduit to work myself through any psychological problems I have. I can't usually write things that are happy or cheerful as well as I do grim and dark because, in my opinion, there's no substance to something happy. Remember that whole thing about sociopath?

Heh.

If there are no problems in a passage or poem, then it's interesting and shallow feeling- but if you feel as if every one of my poems have something at stake- that's when it begins to add depth and gives you a reason for reading my content. Take the ode (the only one in any of the journals i've written thus far) versus the narrative poem on page 14-17. With the ode, you read it and basically just say "Oh. Good for you I guess. Music is pretty nice, isn't it?" However when you come to the narrative, it tells a story with ups and down- risk and peril. It's my own way of socializing without talking. It's something that will live on beyond me and that people may remember me by. I don't ever have any problems writing, because I get a rush from it that I have no Idea how to describe. It's almost like adrenaline. I start typing and go into a frantic rush of tapping fingers; then a few pages later, I have a poem or story. I don't ever remember actually writing the initial paragraph- it just... happens. If there is some sort of restriction on the writing, I simply break or bend the rules. (Like that one sonnet I wrote in the second journal.)

I'm starting to run out of space on this page, so I guess I'll wrap up. Where ever you find this journal, I hope you at least had a little trouble finding it. To the next journal!

See you then.

I hope.