[diary entry no. 1] 'youth is wasted on the young'

i am just now realizing how young i am, and might always be.

i have walked this earth for centuries now, and you really would think that i have fallen in line with the rhythms of living. but for far too long, it all seemed to be incessant noise.

but i get it now, at least some of it. why when we swallow our words it burns on the way down and stings on the way back up. there is just too much to say, and with an eternity to say it all --