i’m used to keeping a real-space notebook –the rules that differentiate this from that are keeping me tongue-tied. i can’t figure out whether it’s okay to mention names. but this isn’t fiction; i don’t have to pretend it is — and that’s part of its allure to me.

when i was in eighth grade, i kept a journal on my computer. i had a dippy little laptop my mother borrowed from the government, a toshiba with a rectangular screen (maybe 4 inches by 7) that could handle wp5.1 and little else. it didn’t matter — that kept me satisfied. like most young writers, it was in my head somewhere near the surface that someone would read what i was writing, so out of courtesy, i gave all my friends pseudonyms.

is that necessary now?

well, i can introduce myself w/ impunity anyway. i’m ester, i’m 18, i’ll be 19 on the 19th of july … funny: growing up, i felt that 19 was the age. it just seemed special to me, and far enuf off that i could view it like the horizon, with awe, and never expect to actually have to confront it.

i have more things to confront before i get there, tho. like the fact that ben is leaving in a matter of hours. (there, i said a name. ben. benbenbenbenben. go read his journal — he’s my inspiration, as well as justin hall and nori.) all three either went or go to my skool, swat.

oh, i could write and write. but i should take this slow.

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