(no subject)
I guess it's good that it makes me laugh, now.
You were mine but I didn't really take you. Instead, I pretended that you didn't care and went off shaking and sweating in dark rooms, reading other girls' blogs, thinking you must like them best. Thinking I wasn't nearly as dark and delicious. Those girls, the ones with the tattoos and the music, the troubled pasts and the art classes... those girls were my death. Why wasn't I as interesting as them? Why wasn't I as clever? As sexy? Why wouldn't you obsess over ME?
Ha ha.
Now, I read my own blog, from three and four years ago, and I obsess over that trembling thing. Over me. That girl who was so worried about everybody else? Who didn't feel significant? Who thought she was uninteresting? I love her. I think she was very clever, magical, even. And I miss her.
But... I am her. A tired, tired, tired version of her.
How ridiculous, all of this lusting after other lives. It's never too late to love mine.
P.S. This time last year and the year before and the year before and the year before, I'd be resolving not to make resolutions. Yes, I thought that was a pretty funny idea, and that I was well ahead of the curve. "Resolutions never last!" I thought. So let's resolve not to make them. "Let every minute be your new year," I said.
But wait. 2009 is 10 years after high school ended. A decade. And I'm knocking on 30. Not that it matters. It's just... I want to accomplish some things. So. Resolutions this year. Yes. Goals. (There, I said it.)
1. Move back to Portland.
2. Write something for myself every day.
3. Run in a race this year.
You were mine but I didn't really take you. Instead, I pretended that you didn't care and went off shaking and sweating in dark rooms, reading other girls' blogs, thinking you must like them best. Thinking I wasn't nearly as dark and delicious. Those girls, the ones with the tattoos and the music, the troubled pasts and the art classes... those girls were my death. Why wasn't I as interesting as them? Why wasn't I as clever? As sexy? Why wouldn't you obsess over ME?
Ha ha.
Now, I read my own blog, from three and four years ago, and I obsess over that trembling thing. Over me. That girl who was so worried about everybody else? Who didn't feel significant? Who thought she was uninteresting? I love her. I think she was very clever, magical, even. And I miss her.
But... I am her. A tired, tired, tired version of her.
How ridiculous, all of this lusting after other lives. It's never too late to love mine.
P.S. This time last year and the year before and the year before and the year before, I'd be resolving not to make resolutions. Yes, I thought that was a pretty funny idea, and that I was well ahead of the curve. "Resolutions never last!" I thought. So let's resolve not to make them. "Let every minute be your new year," I said.
But wait. 2009 is 10 years after high school ended. A decade. And I'm knocking on 30. Not that it matters. It's just... I want to accomplish some things. So. Resolutions this year. Yes. Goals. (There, I said it.)
1. Move back to Portland.
2. Write something for myself every day.
3. Run in a race this year.