I’ve been journaling for over a year, and I’ve begun to re-read my journal entries from a year ago. Today, I was just flipping through and found myself reading my entries from Centrifuge Camp last year. I read through all of my emotions and my questioning, but something kept bothering me. Back when all of that was happening, I felt so old and mature; I was dealing with big world problems. But a year later, I find that I sound so … unexperienced. Not exactly kid-like or immature, but more so … growing. I think that’s the best word. I can see the growth and thought process of myself from a year ago, and though it is hard and mature questions and problems, my writing seems to come from a young child. It is difficult to believe that the journal entries are my own.