Bobby's Journal: 10/25/94
Another journal. I still holdfast to my dream of becoming a writer, though it is a dream I have often doubted and ever abandoned. Yet these very words tell me it is a dream very much alive, a dream I realize with every stroke of my pen. I hope this dream never truly dies, for the words that are its foundation sustain me. If it dies, I fear that I will die with it.
I lay here on the bed where I first began to write, It seems so long ago. I’m not sure where all the years have gone. They are still somewhere inside of me, though, because together they formed me. I miss the people and places I used to know—people and places I can never truly know again—yet as long as I’m alive, so too will they be.
I hope I will fill this journal with the words that lay at the heart of my life. Right now, there are only blank pages, I do not know who I’ll be when they are finally filled. The mystery of these blank pages, though, sustains me, for therein lay the hope of another day, the thrill of a new life, the memory of a life I will never forget.