so i was reading through an old journal this morning. i read from april 2005 to september 2005. most of it was the summer before my fifth year in college when i was living in that little cookie cutter neighborhood alone with heidi, my first dog, before my 3 roommates moved in. i found myself jealous of that girl who was writing. she was so passionate and excited. she talked to God so honestly. she prayed for others all the time.
i know i still do those things. i just don’t write them down. i was also writing poetry all the time that summer. i was truly inspired. i know just writing anything inspires me.
i read one entry that i wrote in August that summer. i just wrote down all the things that were running through my head, in no context at all. here are some of them:
can i handle roommates?
is life easier alone?
am i afraid of getting close to anyone?
can i get my poetry published?
who am i? can i be that person? i’m scared.
is loneliness a comfort for me?
how can i want something so badly and be so afraid of it at the same time?
i don’t need to change
someone will love all of me, even my insecurities
when do i get to just relax and be myself?
did something get screwed up in my head so i can’t figure out how to show anyone who i am?
i’m nervous about people thinking i’m stupid because i’m a fifth year senior
that’s ridiculous. i know it’s not true and i don’t need to make excuses
no matter how hard i try i can’t seem to believe there is nothing wrong with me
i don’t need to change so people will like me
why i can’t i just be myself and other people can decide what they think?
Listen.
Are you talking to me?
I can’t hear you.
How quiet to I have to be to here you?
Why can’t you make it clear?
do you ever find yourself jealous of a person you used to be?
