
JANUARY 21, 1990
Diary | Age 12 | Tacoma
Rarely am I rushed or worried. Things that may bother others to me are considered 'a temporary stait [sic],' everchanging. I dislike rushing or taking things too seriously.
Sometimes I even scorn myself for falling into the silly pathway of practical and predictable path of Reality.
Instead [I] perfer [sic] my self-paced jaunt through the unpredictable and dreaded by some Forest of Fantasy and Dreams that borders the path. But, much to my dismay, when my mind is other occupied there I am on that horrid path again. Blast!!
I have found that a true soul never dies in vain or for a wrong cause, but always leaves on the best accounts. Always be yourself, My dear Anne
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