I just found my journal from six years ago and it brought back such a bitter harsh reality. Although it seems like I have grown so much since that kid who used to write in her own journal in third person with an alias to cover her own identity, afraid someone found the book and read it.
Sarah, my sister, did read it though and it was bad. It was worse today though. I thought that I was all grown up for that 13 year old. I was supposed to laugh at that kids's confessions, entries, her header(Dear/dearest diary). Hah. Its the complete reverse though, the almost twenty year old in me is jelous/envious/some what embarassed of that 13 year old. Its like looking into a mirror that tells you the truth and shows you all your short comings.
I used to be that girl in that book who let all her secrets out into every page of that book despite covering herself under that alias. Even after almost 2 years of blogging, I haven't conjured half the courage that that kid had.
Resolution for future blogging: No more secrets.
I am glad that I found it today and that I read it. Now, I don't need anyone to tell me who I was/am/supposed to be, its all there.. in my little green book with yellow pages and blue ink. All of it and I won't burn it. No, siree!
edit: wow, it does feel good :)
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