The Personal Chronicles of a Teenage Boy

Ending

In my last entry, I took time to plug a book I'm writing. At that point, I had yet to actually write out any of the flesh of the book. I only had written down my notes in two small notebooks that I procured soley for that purpose.
My book is about my feelings, emotions, and life. It chronicles a month in my life, although I had originally planned for a year. It's just that it feels strange. Many books deal with the human mind working out its own problems, but all of those up until now deal with fictional characters, fictional events, fictional lives. Mine is real.
And now it's over. I trekked my path and finished my journey. It's easy to see your own mind when you're restlessly journeying, but when you're at peace, it can only be described as wierd. I feel strange, almost silly to think of myself as have gone through what I did. I'm rarely at a lack of words, but in this case, I am. It's just... wierd.
I guess the way I feel is that I've reached the end. What now? Where can I go from here? My mind has been blank for a couple of hours now, since the final revalation and the end of my book took place. I almost feel empty, but at the same time, I feel at peace. It's just wierd.
Ugh.