First Time Failures

Warning: rambling

I’ve kept a journal religiously since the 4th grade.  My old ones get crammed in my bookshelf and stored away in boxes.  I want them all burned when I die.  I couldn’t bear if someone actually read them and thought them to be an accurate depiction of who I am.  The truth is, they’re the worst of me.  I’m neurotic.  Aren’t we all?  Writing is what I do in order to make sure the anxiety and paranoia don’t get the best of me.  That’s why if someone else were to read my journals, they would believe me to be the most irrational, overly analytical, crazy psycho to ever walk this earth.  I stopped minding years ago though because outside of my journals I’m perfectly rational and not at all psychotic seeming.  I figured the trade-off was worth it.

It seems to me that as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more and more comfortable with myself.  Though not without a fight.  Middle school was horrific and so were my early years in high school.  I was strange and had trouble connecting with people.  Then things changed.  I became less socially inept, met some people, and they’ve been my closest friends ever since.  I’m going away for most of this summer and then after that I’m going abroad for a year.  I can’t help, but feel like everything is moving so quickly.  And so am I.  

I was originally going to tack on a string of photos of stuff I’ve enjoyed in the past few weeks to the bottom here, but I’ve now decided to post them immediately following this post.  That way no one actually has to read this post.  Is it a little sad that I feel weird about rambling on my own blog?  To those of you who actually read this, well, thanks.