I’ve always written in journals and recorded the details of my life. I recently found a box that contained the diaries and journals from my youth.. The first starting when I was only 8 years old - and continuing through 5th and 6th grade, junior high and all 4 years of high school. I started writing on LiveJournal my senior year of high school, but still continued writing faithfully in my physical journals simultaneously for a couple years. To this day I still have lots of notebooks converted into paper journals, moon journals, sketchbooks, notebooks scribbled with notes and doodles and lyrics and poetry.
I was perusing the box of old diaries, thinking I’d skim through the ones of my earliest childhood, to look back and see how I became the person I am today. To see if I could spot where everything went so wrong. To try and understand why I am the way I am. Because, I didn’t particularly have too much trauma in my youth, so it’s harder to pinpoint where my issues stem from. I guess I just felt like studying myself.
I read through 1993 - 1999 last night, and tonight decided to delve into my chaotic teenage years where the next diary picked up in 2002. When I was 16 and the most hormonal person to ever have existed…
I stopped in my tracks when I first mentioned R in my paper diaries. I read my very first tentative thoughts about him, after meeting him through a friend online. I read about us sneaking out at night and meeting up at a late-night coffee shop, and it was the most beautiful and pure thing in the world… to read those first breathless thoughts I ever had about him. To see how drawn I was to him, inexplicably, from the very start. How some of the thoughts of 16 year old me mirror my exact thoughts of him today. It truly gripped my soul as I read it… I flipped back to the beginning to re-check the date it was written:
I glanced at today’s date: 08/15/2019
Seventeen years since I wrote about him for the first time in my physical journals. Seventeen years nearly to the DAY since. And I just happened to pick it up tonight.
And he just happened to break his silence tonight, too.
It’s hard to think about myself, being 16 years old and declaring that I was falling in love with him, to see myself describing our very first kiss and musing to myself what our “first time” would be like, I can’t imagine telling my teenage self that seventeen years later… DOUBLE my lifetime of years later, I would still be feeling the same type of feelings for him.
I think the fact that it just so happened to be near the exact date made me feel extra feels… And made me wonder if I ever matured at all after the age of 16. Probably not. I’m definitely somehow back there now, after everything. Like some kind of fucked up groundhogs day.
Is this really all that there will ever be for me?