I ran into the typewritten sheets that represent a few months of diary from my sophomore year of high school. In some fundamental way, it feels like a different person is writing that-- a sense I don't get from my writing, say, a decade and a half ago. Which raises the question, is there a transition point between who I was and who I am?
If I had to pick a point, I'd choose losing my virginity or coping with unrequited love, both around college time.
