Sunday, March 10, 2013

collection of some younger thoughts of a younger me

August 12th, 2010
I am a turtle, still seeking shelter in my shell. I want to come out of it [oh, I wrote "come out"... dear me, how naive I was]. I am a deer, running away from danger, but I still get caught up in the lights of it all. I am a sloth, tired from the same routine. Little energy keeps me from changing it. I am an ant, marching behind everyone else. I'm going to break off, soon. I am a raccoon, my eyes encased in black. At night is when I feel alive. I am a lightning bug, glittering when I wish- my light the same as others, but sometimes we glow at different times. I am a person, with my own set of problems. Even though I am all of these things, I still try to be myself.

January 12th, 2010
The greatest tragedy a single person can have is the one that emotionally cripples them. I personally see it in one girl every single day. She has no idea how important she truly is to others, and what a great person she is. Because she doesn't know this, I still believe she hurts herself- I've seen the scratches on her wrists. I hope that someday she'll realize, and if not, I plan to tell her. I think about it more than I should- I see it, and feel horrible. I've always secretly looked up to her. I've never thought much of my own life- I don't think it's awful, or unbearable, or tragic. It's a life.

January 28th, 2010
Ohhh, that swing. I never thought a huge tree, a long rope, and a circular wooden board would could ever give one person so much fun, so many memories. I swung on it for hours, and up until I reached high above the shed we had. It was like flying, but sitting down. It occupied my dreams for a long time, where I'd be sitting down and the swing would fall [from under me], and I'd just be flying in the air, floating weightlessly for awhile.

February 1st, 2010
A lot of people write autobiographies of themselves for a living, earning millions of dollars from their words. But they aren't really selling their words- they're selling their lives, their memories, and their thoughts. So, I don't really have a life to sell, because I haven't made one for myself yet. I'm too young- I haven't had enough time, or enough experience to even start... Life for the most part [right now] is boring, and not something of mine that people would want to hear about...

February 12th, 2010
Valentine's Day, to me, is just as meaningful as Canadian Boxing Day. I've never been really given a chance to experience the shallow meaning and effect of the holiday. It's a lot deeper than roses and chocolates and cute little teddy bears that sing songs. It's all about how much you truly care about [usually] one person in your life. But why only one? Why doesn't everybody celebrate the love and caring of everyone? Why don't we all still give out little cards that make everyone feel special? I miss those days. I'm now one of those kids that might rarely have a "one special person" on Valentine's Day. I celebrate everyone, kind of like it's an anniversary of our friendships, and through it flows memories [and nostalgia]. :)

February 24th, 2010
I kind of have found out that there are certain words that sound better than others. Like nightlight. It just sounds cool- the way it rolls off of my tongue with ease. Memento. There's another great word.

February 24th, 2010 [AGAIN]
I really dislike when people say "keep your fingers crossed," mostly because I have a hard time physically doing it. It seems as though the space between my fingers is too small for them to overlap. I don't understand why I'm built this way, but it's of some symbolic point, I'm sure. Because I don't always necessarily have the power to hold a great amount of hope? Or maybe it's the fact that the hope is so strong inside of me, I can't convey it externally. :)

March 4th, 2010
My dreams are short & adventurous. Some have great settings still, but most do not. The last dream I recall is that I was staring at flesh [not a chest at all, mostly because I never dream of "inappropriate parts"- they're all just plain, like the skin of an arm], above the heart of a person. In the dream, I thought it was myself. The heart was circular, but kept beating. Then I woke up.

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