The Young Me

We dug out some old stuff of my grandma's when we were up there in Montana last time. One thing we found was a five-year diary from when she was 11-15. It was fun to read through the different activities she did. That woman was pretty freaking amazing. Involved in everything! I loved reading it all. The best entry went something like this (in 1938 when she was 14,  believe): Saw Sam today. My heart fluttered. We went for a ride in his car and he put his arm around me. He told me he loved me. I'm sure it wasn't proper but... then he kissed me. It was swell."

I loved imagining her out there in some old car before it was an old car, with her close friend, dreaming big dreams about the future and letting her red hair fly in the wind. I wish she'd written more. I wish I could have looked through all of her diaries.

It made me wonder about my old journals. I started when i was 12, I think. And for some stupid reason I KEPT all of those things, thinking someone would want to read them some day. I'm thinking that they won't. And i'm thinking I'll die if some people do. Because, let's face it, I was a stupid kid. We all probably were. On the outside we looked normal, but those angsty tweenager thoughts and the following years full of teenage troubles... it's embarrassing, really. If you knew me then, I'm thankful that we're still friends becuase I must have been one very annoying person.

I wonder sometimes if I should burn those bright-eyed dreams written with bic pens between classes (or during them), in the dark nights alone in my room, wondering if anyone loved me, if anyone cared. If I would ever get married. dreaming about my future and all of the things I could be. But I don't want to forget that either. Maybe some day my girls would want to see it. It's not like I had anything to hide. Just a whole lot of angst and questions that no one could answer.

I read some old emails yesterday, and I wanted to shoot that 18-year-old me. Knock myself over the head and say, "it turns out fine! Stop freaking out! And stop being so random! And stop being so... weird."

But I think that I still am that girl sometimes. And sometimes, even though I know how immature and naive I was back then, I wish I could go back. To be the young me again, before I became jaded and cynical about so many things. Before I knew so much about the world. Those troubles made me into who I am, and every joy and sorrow shaped me. So I'll keep the journals for now. but don't go looking for them. They're safely hidden away. Not even my closest friends have seen them. And I plan to keep it that way!