I've been going through all these diaries from the last 10 years with a mix of amusement and embarrassment.

I was 13 when I started this chain of diaries. Thirteen, for christ's sake. Long ago I deleted most of those first few since it was primarily fiction, though now I wish I hadn't.

It started out as fiction based on a small bit of reality, and became more and more real, until finally everything was my life. My real name, my real age, my real relationships. Understandable that it started out that way; my life at 13 wasn't exactly riveting.

In a bizarre way, I feel as though nothing has changed. I mean really, what have I ever written about? Fucking boys. Literally and expletively.

Of course, things have changed. Many things have changed. But when I think that the focus of my life has always been my various romantic interests, which have always disappointed me, ....well I'm pretty much at square one, aren't I?

Here I am, writing on Diaryland, disappointed by men. I was about to say something about always ending up alone and reflecting on my love life, but whoops, I guess I'm not alone. Having a live-in boyfriend and all.

Is it normal to still feel alone? It amazes me how I can feel so happy with him, yet still feel so disconnected. I still feel like it's just me, wondering why boys don't really love me.

I suppose I'm too self-absorbed to ever see my relationship as a cohesive unit. It's probably my normal, to feel alone.

Shall we place bets? Will I still be here at 33, going on about the mysteries of love and relationships?