I'm STILL slowly sifting through the decades' worth of crap that is bogging down our office. I just came across a quasi-autobiographical piece, dated 27 February 1997, from which I've extracted the first sentence:
Okay, so I'm almost done with my sophomore year in high school and I still don't know in which direction I want to lead my life.
The rest is weird and then I realize I was writing some story that was basically about my life but with names changed to protect the innocent, or something. I've taken a lot of years off of writing weird crap (which is what it always seems like to me), but I might be slowly getting back to it.
Wait, where was I going with this? Oh, yes, por supuesto. My real-life self, twelve years later, still finds that above statement to ring entirely too true.