Hello World.

 The following posts you will read are digital keepsakes from my journals back in the day. It's hard to keep them in pristine condition, so I've decided to document everything that's still legible inside of them.. Most pages consist of my angst ridden teenage ramblings, but that's not the man I am anymore. This account was made when I was nineteen years old (as was my email that you'll find past this point), I don't have time in my day to make a newer electronic mailing address.

My name is Collin Winthorp, at the time of writing this entries you are about to read beyond this post, I was 21 years old, and had freshly graduated from The École nationale de police du Québec (for those who do not speak French, it simply translates to "(The) Québec National Police Academy") about two years prior. I was celebrating the second anniversary of said graduation with a few buddies of mine, the typical celebration you'd expect out of people my age. Popping popcorn, maybe a few drinks involved, doing stupid things you'd say you "won't regret" but wake up shuddering in a cold sweat by dawn.. That kind of thing.

Most of these entries were about my family life, past the slang I feel embarrassed with even reading to myself while typing these out, that is. But if they weren't about my entire family, or about the goings-on of a young man, they were always about my younger sisters. I still keep in contact with Caroline (in fact, I celebrated her 24th birthday with her back in February), but it's been 17 years on the dot since I've last seen my other sister, Chloe. I was too busy to even notice her in my youth, but with every letter signed off with her name that I was too preoccupied with, they all haunt me to this day.

 

I can't help but think about her, where she could be, if she's even here anymore. The men they sent to search for her came up with nothing, our parents came up with nothing. All they knew was she was gone, the only trace of her left now in that home was her hair strewn on a bloody window. I don't want to believe the worst, I want to believe she's still out there and able to walk the world (not sitting in a hole in a desolate place, at least). Her birthday's coming up in a few months, turning 33 this year. I can only hope she'll finally write another letter after a decade and then some.

This has been the introduction page to these immortalized pages, if you have any idea where she could be, please email me at coolcollie1969@aol.com

probably the best photo of me yet.

 short post today.... i got my renewed license back today, even if i look like shit at least its not a photo with some fake smile and the tackiest suit mom and dad were gonna make me wear... or that sweater vest dad forced me to wear when i was finally headed off for college.

 

needless to say he isnt happy about how it looks. but i dont really give a shit. i dont give a shit about him at all really.... but heres the photo..... tried to crop out as much as i could as to not give away everything about me..... 

 

dont mind the scratches. i kind of used it as means to open my door a select few times already. but i try to make sure my only good photo isnt scratched to shit by using the opposite corner. even if i look depressed here.... i really can not stop smiling right now.

 

 

Parents fucking suck.

 Hey guys, this is a serious post this time around...... My mom and dad have constantly been fighting these past few weeks, and its way more serious than usual....... not to the point of hitting each other or anything. but they have been erupting in these really fucking obnoxious screaming matches over whatever ownership they have over their billionth collaboration project..... i could hear it over trying to put my notes together for that stupid test i have to take next week.

this time around was loud enough to hear when i crawled out the window when it was too much. i barely saw my mom through the window because she was facing the light in the kitchen.... always the dramatic with all the arm movement...... but she kept screaming about how she's been asking him to do all this shit i don't understand. something about show kits or whatever the projects called. they never shut up about it when were doing their stupid slave labor for them......

but then i saw dad in the window. he wasnt looking at my mom. he didnt even acknowledge her.

he was staring at me. he stood there in front of my mom, that far in the room and with how dark it was outside. he shouldnt have seen me. but he just stood there. staring.

obviously i was scared shitless. i will admit the way he looks at us sometimes is enough to shatter my sisters into listening, but usually i just tell him in my head to suck it. this time specifically was enough for me to feel small. almost like he wasnt staring at me. but into whatever it was on me. like my body was the shell to whatever drew his eyes to me.

so naturally, i came back inside. like a dumbass. in the midst of my mom asking if hes even listening to her anymore. not only did i get an earful of the "youre out past curfew" bullshit i usually get, but my dad just stayed quiet during the whole thing. which if you know my parents at all, they love bouncing off each other not only from what you see, but especially when it comes to pestering the three of us. one of them staying silent is when you know somethings up.

 

i dont think i want to talk about what happened when i was sent back to my room though.

 

but my sisters certainly know. they havent spoken to me yet, but Carrie's sure making it clear she knows by camping in front of my door until one of my stupid fucking parents tells her to either make herself useful or go back to her room..................... they love treating me like an animal when the opportunity makes itself known......................

at this point. i might as well ask to go crash with Megan for a few days. i cant take this shit, its degrading and i can only listen to the same greed talk for so long.

sisters...

 for every person i hate in this world, at least i always have them.

i always thought they were annoying when i was little. "Caroline gets the baby treatment for a year longer than i did!" and "i didnt exist after 𝅳𝅳𛲣𛲣𛲣𛲣𛲣 was born!"

 

but then i started remembering when i turned 13 that im their brother. that regardless of how good i think they have it, were all in the same shitty shithole because we only have each other. no real friends.

 

in that sense. before i started high school, they were my only friends anyway. if  𝅳𝅳𛲣𛲣𛲣𛲣𛲣 wasn't taking care of carrie when she was a baby, usually we spent the time talking during chores, or if mom and dad were gone awhile, reading in their seats or even watching the television for longer than until the clock looked even slightly different from when we first glanced at it.

 

i think that's what i enjoyed most about it. with the time we could get in here, wed spend it using stashed away baked goods i usually ended up buying because i was really the only one with any time allowed outside without being at their hips, or wed play some of moms and grandmas records, take the photos of our uncles and aunt out from the attic just to pretend we had our own family parties for a while...

 
i recall really connecting with carrie too... one day in the attic with my sisters, we found an old box of dads things. inside of one of them was an old photo of my dad and his brothers when they were all kids about her age. and she told me she wished she got to experience the things they got to as boys. the simplest things like playing at playgrounds outside of school, or fencing with sticks theyd break off in the backyard. even a real cake for her birthday would be enough, she said.

 

i couldnt help myself in feeling that way too for a moment. i guess thats obvious from me telling the little world i have here about it......... but it makes me realize how alike we all are. how besides being our own stupid people who will make even stupider mistakes and decisions, we all sort of have the same worldview. granted we all think of it in different ways...... im obviously the pessimistic one.

i hope one day we can talk to uncle dean. if dad hates him as much as he claims he does, then we are sure to get along great.