I'd write basically every day I guess, things that were happening with my family, fights I had gotten into at school, stuff like that. If the mood struck me I'd write a story where I was the hero. From the age of 7-14 I filled probably 11 or 12 composition notebooks, but I have none of them now. I would always go about destroying them in the same way. I'd finish one, and put it in some secret place on the bookshelf. Any random number of months later I'd stumble upon the completed journal, pick it up to thumb through, and feel incredibly nauseous. At first I'd start just ripping out pages that I especially hated, but then by the time I was done the whole thing would be in the garbage. I must have destroyed hundreds and hundreds of pages. One time my mom found out I was doing this and with a sad look on her face told me that when I turned into an adult I would really regret doing that, and wish I had them to look back upon and have some sort of a lifeline into my childhood. Maybe I'm not grown up yet, because I still don't regret it.

Zack