It's been a while
There's a lightening storm tonight. It's fucking amazing, but it's keeping my dog awake.
Why did we start these? Why was it fun? I no longer understand the idea of livejournal or myspace or any of that shit. It makes no sense to me. I like my deviantart, but I think that's only because I'm a shameless show-off. I don't think the world makes sense to me anymore. So much for privacy, so much for solitude. Here I am, alone at my house at four in the morning, talking to everyone who has a desktop and a phone line.
I can be so ashamed of myself sometimes, for the things I've said or done or posted on the web, but I keep coming back to it. Always saying one more stupid thing, putting myself just that much deeper into a hole. Maybe it's a part of growing up - being an idiot and recognizing the idiocy, but allowing it to continue so later on down the line, you can recognize that you're less of an idiot.
The first time I realized that I had changed was when I was seven years old. I thought of something I had done at five, and thought to myself "well, that was really stupid." At ten, I remembered eight and thought "I'm so glad I'm not that dumb little girl anymore." At thirteen I said to myself "I will never be the same as this again, I will never be as brilliant, nor as dull." Sixteen and I realized that as I got older, I would hate my younger self. At seventeen, I wrote myself a letter, asking not to be forgotten. Now, at twenty, in two days I'll be an adult in every sense. Most people I know mistake me for being much older than I am (unfortunately none of those people are bartenders) and I'm well aware that I'm not twenty-one in many ways - my attitude and articulation, my habitual need to re-assess my situation, as though every day is a mid-life crisis - but I am also well aware that in a few years (or months) I'll look back at this post and realize how young I was, and how much I had to learn. Sure, I think I know everything now, but that's what I thought at five too.
Why did we start these? Why was it fun? I no longer understand the idea of livejournal or myspace or any of that shit. It makes no sense to me. I like my deviantart, but I think that's only because I'm a shameless show-off. I don't think the world makes sense to me anymore. So much for privacy, so much for solitude. Here I am, alone at my house at four in the morning, talking to everyone who has a desktop and a phone line.
I can be so ashamed of myself sometimes, for the things I've said or done or posted on the web, but I keep coming back to it. Always saying one more stupid thing, putting myself just that much deeper into a hole. Maybe it's a part of growing up - being an idiot and recognizing the idiocy, but allowing it to continue so later on down the line, you can recognize that you're less of an idiot.
The first time I realized that I had changed was when I was seven years old. I thought of something I had done at five, and thought to myself "well, that was really stupid." At ten, I remembered eight and thought "I'm so glad I'm not that dumb little girl anymore." At thirteen I said to myself "I will never be the same as this again, I will never be as brilliant, nor as dull." Sixteen and I realized that as I got older, I would hate my younger self. At seventeen, I wrote myself a letter, asking not to be forgotten. Now, at twenty, in two days I'll be an adult in every sense. Most people I know mistake me for being much older than I am (unfortunately none of those people are bartenders) and I'm well aware that I'm not twenty-one in many ways - my attitude and articulation, my habitual need to re-assess my situation, as though every day is a mid-life crisis - but I am also well aware that in a few years (or months) I'll look back at this post and realize how young I was, and how much I had to learn. Sure, I think I know everything now, but that's what I thought at five too.