I just like the rest of us at one point, had a diary ... or as we called it when we wanted to feel mature a "Journal". I have recently started another "Journal" and Im actally quite enjoyng it so far. But last night, I re-read my old journal from grade 9 to 10.
Let' just say I wanted to shoot myelf in the face after reading it. There were only 2 different kinds of posts
The Young Teenage Girl, Who Worships a Boy ones: "I really really really like this boy! he's so amazing! I should make him a nicname so that if anyone ever reads this they wont know who I'm actually talkng about! I'm so funny!" blah Blah BLAH!!
and the I'm A Depressing and Angsty Twat ones: <insert self hating, world hating, and extreamy dark and horrible poetry here>
I've decided that I will right the wrongs of litrerature I have committed during this horrible phase in my life. I started writting a new journal and I've told myself that I can't talk about boys or write any poetry in it, no matter how much of a master peice I think it is! I used to write recapes of the day everynight, but now I write things the momment they happen, it's more real and more fun.
For instence, yesterday I simply wrote about how I was eating classy bread and how that made me happy ... it may be really stupid but it's what I was really thinking about at the momment.
I think the simple and real things are more important than stupid teenage heart aches.
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