For days, I've been cleaning my room inside out, finally going through all the shit my packass managed to stockpile throughout the years. Brochures from hotel hot spots, university admission letters from high school, a secret diary from the days of manic depression, Bugs Bunny drawings from when I was nine, love letters from my past. One word. Nostalgia.
I miss the days in which my greatest concerns were that I didn't fit in. I miss the days where academic projects consisted of talking about my life. I miss the days that I didn't know I missed.
As you can probably see, for weeks I stopped writing. To my loyal readers (all two of you), I apologize for my absence. I initially blamed it on my vacationing, but let's face the reality, I just got plain lazy. Well, kind of. More than anything, I think part of me forgot why I did this in the first place.
But then today I found the secret diary.
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"Then there was Valentine's Day where I'm always single. haha. I'm single a lot. I really question why that the guys I feel for never feel the same."
The grammar. It's just so bad. But what hurts more is the honesty. That little chuckle mid-sentence, so blatantly revealing my inner embarrasment.
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"June, ooo, that went by fast and ended with exams. Marks were OK in the end. Always a feel of disappointment for Mom & Dad, but hey, you get used to it..."
Don't lie to yourself. Deep down you know that you'll never be used to it. At least you'll find that you can admit it seven years later.
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"I learned to look much better, nicer hair, makeup, but skin got so much worse. O well, but nowadays, depression just makes me wanna look good, especially since how everything Tiff does pisses me off now. The last thing I would want is more guys hitting on her than me. I hate her for being closer with people than me, which is just jealousy, but I hate it cause we were once so close and she just ditched me like yesterday's paper."
When I came across this, I literally laughed out loud, and instantly picked up the phone to call Tiff. I'm not sure in what world "being good looking" and "hating your previous best friend" have in common, but it did in my case.
Oh, the conceit, that bewildering conceit. I mean, now at this point in my life, it's hard to even fathom carrying so much arrogance. But reading those words, it just painted a mural of emotions in my mind, reminding me of exactly what I thought I was then.
And Tiff? Oh Tiff. Oh how things have changed.
The Coles Notes version of our friendship was that we had instant chemistry when we met in Grade 9, but she blew up on me in Grade 10 because of repressed anger towards my negative characteristics back then. Ultimately, we made up and became best friends again in Grade 11 and the rest of our 8 year friendship was history (we are currently closer than ever). But the pain she inflicted on me is something I will never forget.
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Oh, writing. What a powerful medium of expression. How could I dare forget about you?
As dumb as those entries were, they were(and)are brilliant in every way. Only now am I able to recall so vividly each detail of my own personal life, my own story.
I write this blog because I want to remember. I want to remember that overwhelming warmth and the tickle of rushing blood you feel when your lips touch anothers. I want to remember the agonizing pain that collapses your world when your heart gets shattered into pieces. I want to remember all of it, every little bit.
And so I will remind myself. Blog on little grasshopper, blog on.
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