Being trapped in this cubicle for eight hours a day has inspired some serious re-evaluation of my life. Reading old entries is like experiencing the past all over again, but this time with an outsider's wisdom. Former lovers, former loves, substance abuse.

Two or three weeks ago, I reduced my best friend to tears. "You didn't know what you were like back then," she said, "I can't do this again." I promised her that I would never put her through that again, but it never occurred to me that there was any truth in her fears. But here it is, in black and white! I know now that I had a problem, but who can tell if I still do? I think I have the potential. I'm not an alcoholic and I'm not an addict, and I think maybe that's why it is so hard to admit my shortcomings. I feel like a phony because I never took it to extremes. The most dangerous part of my personality is my ability to gloss over things because I am not the worst case scenario.

I'm working on it. I'm working. I'm trying.