The Horror That Comes When You Read Your Old Posts

My goodness. I actually hate my old self.

2011 me? Spoiled, sheltered, petty little freshman girl with no confidence and no empathy. She’s self-centered, and not even in a reflective sort of way – she’s wrapped up in the coming and goings of her mundane, boring everyday life. Like, what I ate for breakfast, and the exact happenings in my speech and debate class were of utmost importance. Mortified.

2012 me is marginally better, but really not by much. I was still a largely awful person.

2013, junior year, I make a leap. My grammar improves; I start capitalizing my I’s. I have friends. I start trusting people. I start caring about others (well, somewhat). My posts deal more with larger trends in my daily life than a post literally on each day (thank god that ended). What caused that?

I guess Interlochen, but more specifically, meeting friends and feeling like I belonged for the first time. Seeing people be comfortable in their own skin, and kind to other people despite their ‘weirdness’.

I guess also my grandfather dying. I think I had to feel more than I ever did before.

Senior year, 2014. Wrapped up with boys now, and reflective posts, I think, most of them really not about my daily life at all. I like myself here more- though flawed, at least I know it.

Published by unknownandanonymous

A journal written for me, by me. Bonus points for me if other people like reading it.

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