I hadn't heard the song in years and it took me back to hot-Bible-belt-college nights when I felt wild and free, yet oddly trapped in a twisted mess of everything I thought I knew and all the things I didn't know I didn't know.
Are You There, Dear Diary? No, It’s Not Sylvia Plath. It’s Me, Penelope.
Dear Diary, I'm sorry I haven't written in so long. That's how I always started after skipping more than a day or two. Year after year, you were my consistent, listening friend. You gave me an outlet before I knew how desperately I craved one. You helped me formulate clear thoughts before I realized authentic... Continue Reading →