** Side Note: I recently found a journal I had started in high school. I decided I would start writing in it again. This is a journal entry that I wrote on July 3, 2012 **
What a depressing book to read. It took me nearly a decade to recover enough to be able to put pen to paper in this thing again.
I look back at my older journal entries and feel like I wrote them for someone else to read, as opposed to just using my journal as a medium to get my own thoughts out.
That makes me sad. Even in what was supposed to be my private refuge (that sounds super corny), I was still trying to do something to impress others.
I am nowhere near the person I was nine years ago, and yet, in some ways, I am exactly the same person I was nine years ago.
I now generally know when to use affect and when to use effect (that is a blatant lie. I still look it up to be safe.) and I have become much more self-centred - which has actually allowed me to be more more compassionate and giving. In order to take care of others, you must first take care of yourself.
Something that my 18-year-old self would be horrified to learn is that I still do not know how to breakdance. It is shameful, really. It is my albatross to bear.
Even so, I have still managed to become gainfully employed (whatever that means), and generally contribute in a positive way to society.
That being said, this past Sunday I got so high that I actually forgot how to speak English for several hours. So I guess what I am saying is that I am still growing as a person.
I think my 18-year-old self would be disappointed with my life in a lot of ways. Probably in the same ways that my current self is disappointed with my own life. However, as a whole, I'd like to think my 18-year-old self would be pretty impressed.
But you know what? Even if my 18-year-old self wasn't, who cares? Eighteen-year-olds know nothing. Then again, twenty-seven-year-olds don't know that much either.
What a depressing book to read. It took me nearly a decade to recover enough to be able to put pen to paper in this thing again.
I look back at my older journal entries and feel like I wrote them for someone else to read, as opposed to just using my journal as a medium to get my own thoughts out.
That makes me sad. Even in what was supposed to be my private refuge (that sounds super corny), I was still trying to do something to impress others.
I am nowhere near the person I was nine years ago, and yet, in some ways, I am exactly the same person I was nine years ago.
I now generally know when to use affect and when to use effect (that is a blatant lie. I still look it up to be safe.) and I have become much more self-centred - which has actually allowed me to be more more compassionate and giving. In order to take care of others, you must first take care of yourself.
Something that my 18-year-old self would be horrified to learn is that I still do not know how to breakdance. It is shameful, really. It is my albatross to bear.
Even so, I have still managed to become gainfully employed (whatever that means), and generally contribute in a positive way to society.
That being said, this past Sunday I got so high that I actually forgot how to speak English for several hours. So I guess what I am saying is that I am still growing as a person.
I think my 18-year-old self would be disappointed with my life in a lot of ways. Probably in the same ways that my current self is disappointed with my own life. However, as a whole, I'd like to think my 18-year-old self would be pretty impressed.
But you know what? Even if my 18-year-old self wasn't, who cares? Eighteen-year-olds know nothing. Then again, twenty-seven-year-olds don't know that much either.
1 comment:
Writing a post about drinking at work, then taking it down so that I only see the first paragraph in my Reader and can't read the rest? Totally unfair! Careful, or you'll get a reputation as a tease:-)
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