My brother found one of my notebooks. Which is an astonishing feat all in itself, because I have well over seventy of them-spirals, drawing, those yellow books that lawyers use, and a few that are basically a bunch of leaves tied together with a string. But this wasn't just ANY notebook, this was my paranoid notebook.
I won't go into too much detail, but there was a point in my life where I documented a whole LOT of things, thinking that one day-if I were to be found missing, dead or dying out in a forest trail somewhere-then the police would be able to use the information in that notebook and find who did it. I called it something like 'In Case of a Police Investigation." I was very dramatic, like that. And in it I had a whole bunch of my accounts, and their passwords.
That is how I was able to find and get back here.
(Although why I would have all that in a notebook where just anyone could look inside and take over all those accounts, I have no idea. I was a smart teenager but I wasn't a 'smart' teenager, ya get?)