I'm going to keep this short and sweet because I've been away for far too long, and yet I haven't the time to return.
Life has been nothing short of a big, scary, amazing, immaculate roller coaster ride lately. The drops weren't as horrifying as I'd first expected, but man, those peaks were exhilarating.
Looking back on all those memories I assumed I was better without....I was wrong.
A little over a year ago, while packing to move out of the house that knew my youth, I came across a drawer filled with all my old journals. As I flipped through the pages and scoffed at how naive and contrived I sounded, I felt foolish for wasting a lot of my teenage years doing nothing and complaining about it rather than bettering myself. For a moment I considered throwing all those old notebooks away. What do I need with ink stained pages detailing visions of a teenage wasteland?
I'm not sure why I choose to keep them, or even how they wound up with me in San Luis Obispo, but once again I stumbled upon them a few weeks ago while unpacking at my new place. I sat on the floor and thumbed through a few entries and suddenly I was angry with myself for ever considering tossing them out.
A lot of things have changed since I was 15, and there's nothing I can do about growing up. The memories I have, I cherish. Good and bad. And I have a feeling that one day I'm going to want the old me as a reminder of how it used to be.
