I can't say I'm sorry my older entries are fading. In the slightest. The person who, at 16, sat and babbled endlessly on paper in hopes of hitting a point that made sense to him...that isn't me anymore
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It seems we lived different elevens, then. At least in the surface. I had already seen somebody die, at eleven. In the most meaningless of ways. It was my uncle Thomas, he taught me to play wizard chess.
I didn't care about good and evil. Those were things I read in books, and the books I read had very little to do with reality.
People might argue that I was alone, at eleven, but I wasn't. I had my father, you see. And he knew me better than everyone else. I'm not sure if this is the case anymore, though, it's been a long two years.
At eleven, I was a good head and shoulders shorter than the second smallest child in my year. I had a family, but most of it I had just left behind.
I'd never seen anyone die, but I'd seen people be blatantly and unreservedly cruel, for no good reason, and I thought that that was wrong, and back then I believed that wrong and evil were synonyms.
I wasn't alone at eleven, but I think it was in spite of the world's best efforts, sometimes.
I have a cousin. There was a point when we were close enough that people would ask if we were brother and sister, or if we were boyfriend and girlfriend. And I'm not sure if that's true anymore, either.
I've never been a big kid, but you would've guessed that. We do actually look a bit alike, don't we?
I was cruel when I was eleven, although I don't think I knew I was.
I made an effort to be alone, the world would've much rather preferred that I didn't. But people are complicated, I learned this when I was smaller than you when you were eleven. Books have always been kinder and more patient.
Growing apart happens before our very eyes, yet we always notice at the last moment.
And all children are cruel. Most of the time, their cruelty is passed off as merely childhood, however.
I never tried to be alone. I was, eventually, but it grew, I think. You can learn to prefer it, I think. And books are always there, no matter what they hold.
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Was thinking of checking out Dung's stash. He warned me not to, but sometimes that just makes me want to do things more. Know what I mean?
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And I think I know the feeling. On just about every level.
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You might not ever get over that, just so you know. And that's okay.
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I rather imagined I might not, to be honest.
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I didn't care about good and evil. Those were things I read in books, and the books I read had very little to do with reality.
People might argue that I was alone, at eleven, but I wasn't. I had my father, you see. And he knew me better than everyone else. I'm not sure if this is the case anymore, though, it's been a long two years.
I am leaving soon, Boot.
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I'd never seen anyone die, but I'd seen people be blatantly and unreservedly cruel, for no good reason, and I thought that that was wrong, and back then I believed that wrong and evil were synonyms.
I wasn't alone at eleven, but I think it was in spite of the world's best efforts, sometimes.
I have a cousin. There was a point when we were close enough that people would ask if we were brother and sister, or if we were boyfriend and girlfriend. And I'm not sure if that's true anymore, either.
I rather imagined you might be.
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I was cruel when I was eleven, although I don't think I knew I was.
I made an effort to be alone, the world would've much rather preferred that I didn't. But people are complicated, I learned this when I was smaller than you when you were eleven. Books have always been kinder and more patient.
Growing apart happens before our very eyes, yet we always notice at the last moment.
Is that it?
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And all children are cruel. Most of the time, their cruelty is passed off as merely childhood, however.
I never tried to be alone. I was, eventually, but it grew, I think. You can learn to prefer it, I think. And books are always there, no matter what they hold.
Like growing in general, I think.
And no, it's not.
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