(no subject)
i had this conversation about the opposite sex and what not with farrah. i just started story-telling, going back into the past, reminicing on significant memories that i would live over if i could. it leaves me with this pit feeling in my stomach, remembering how stupid i was back as a sixteen year old, remembering how vivid and how real those times were, and how even though three years have passed, i still remember the times as if they were yesterday. i re-read old journals, cry full of laughter, and realize how lucky i was.
sometimes i wish i could tell people, "hey, i think you're cool" but we don't tell people that. we tell our friends, "hey i think he's/she's cool" because we're so scared. we're so scared to give compliments, to tell someone we may have feelings for them, or even say hello to someone walking along the path.
i wanted to be a writer when i was in the tenth grade.
sigh...those were the days.
i was like harriet the spy.
someone even found my journal.
oh well.
sometimes i wish i could tell people, "hey, i think you're cool" but we don't tell people that. we tell our friends, "hey i think he's/she's cool" because we're so scared. we're so scared to give compliments, to tell someone we may have feelings for them, or even say hello to someone walking along the path.
i wanted to be a writer when i was in the tenth grade.
sigh...those were the days.
i was like harriet the spy.
someone even found my journal.
oh well.