I finally found my box of journals while at my parents' home this weekend. I had been distraught for some time now, thinking I'd lost them somewhere along the way but lo and behold, there they were in my old closet, buried in the bottom of a box. I spent a good three hours poring over each and every word I wrote in them, books full of my words from 5th grade all the way through college- 14 journals all together. It's so remarkable to me that I wrote so consistently for so long, even after getting into Livejournal and beyond. Half of it is heart-breakingly honest and real and beautiful, and the other half makes me cringe with embarrassment at my naive and very boy-crazy self. But it's me, all of me, wrapped up in journal after journal, page after page, full of tucked away photos and movie tickets and cards from old friends. So grateful to have those back in my life. And so grateful to be able to read through those with such open eyes, and have thoughts like these: why on earth did I waste so much time thinking I was fat? How could I think that so-and-so was really interested in me? (it was astounding to read my recaps of situations in those pages and then read my interpretations of them! I was crazy!) Also: it's laughable how I was "so in love" with this guy one week, then the next some new guy was "the one." Insane, insane, preteen and teenage me. Thank god for growing up and figuring it out...or at least a little more than I had by that point.
xoxo