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enamouredThe Boy was not in French today, and I found myself wondering what the reason was for his absense. Does he have the flu? Family dispute? Doctor's appointment? Elopement? I know he's just the sophomore who I've been clandestinely crushing on, but I worry. Because, behind his geeky!hotness, he's a nice, normal guy. (screw it, Candice--he's not a nice, normal guy; if he was, you would not be wondering if he caught the flu. Shut it.)
I go on the occasional burst where I go back and start re-reading my old journals. They're in a storage box right between my bed and my nightstand, and sometimes, when I'm feeling melancholy, bored, or nostalgic, I go and pull out the journals and read and remember. I always talk about how I miss middle school so much, and all that, and when I was reading through one of my sixth grade journals a few days ago, I realized why I have this connection to sixth through eighth grade: it's because I can remember exactly who I was then, and because I wrote in so many books then (seven journals from sixth through eighth grade), I have total documentation of exactly what I felt and what I liked/disliked then. I also don't get too embarrased recalling the things I did then--well, there are things that embarrass me about who I was then, but not to the point that I'd repress that memory and try to deny I was ever like that. (I'd never deny my Backstreet LURVE and the teenie behavior that came with it, but God.) I remember what it was like to be that age. I can relate to people who are that age.
I don't know exactly how to act like a seventeen year old. I don't know what people my age do at parties. I can't legally drive yet. I don't have a car. I've never kissed a boy. I feel like in some senses I am freeze-framed at thirteen. I still listen to some of the same music I did at that age (*NSYNC, Christina), I still have posters on my wall (not as many, only the storebought ones, and four of them at that), I still have copious celebrity crushes, and I'm still slightly insanely insecure. But at the same time, I feel older--I don't like the bulk of the current music; I prefer Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin. I don't have the same attitudes about some things. I'm really serious when some kids my age would be acting silly.
I... I don't know where I fit in because of this. I don't act my age. I don't exactly know how. I kind of stick out because of this and no one really understands me. And the one person who did now thinks I'm immature and pointless and doesn't give a crap about me, 'cause she's one of them. One of the teenagers who knows how to really act like one. Who knows how to be one.
I didn't mean to turn this toward Christy, but God, she's the only one who got me and now no one does--who will understand me now? Or am I just going to spend the rest of my life feeling like a misfit and not knowing how to act and be my age?
I think entirely too much. But I miss my best friend.
I go on the occasional burst where I go back and start re-reading my old journals. They're in a storage box right between my bed and my nightstand, and sometimes, when I'm feeling melancholy, bored, or nostalgic, I go and pull out the journals and read and remember. I always talk about how I miss middle school so much, and all that, and when I was reading through one of my sixth grade journals a few days ago, I realized why I have this connection to sixth through eighth grade: it's because I can remember exactly who I was then, and because I wrote in so many books then (seven journals from sixth through eighth grade), I have total documentation of exactly what I felt and what I liked/disliked then. I also don't get too embarrased recalling the things I did then--well, there are things that embarrass me about who I was then, but not to the point that I'd repress that memory and try to deny I was ever like that. (I'd never deny my Backstreet LURVE and the teenie behavior that came with it, but God.) I remember what it was like to be that age. I can relate to people who are that age.
I don't know exactly how to act like a seventeen year old. I don't know what people my age do at parties. I can't legally drive yet. I don't have a car. I've never kissed a boy. I feel like in some senses I am freeze-framed at thirteen. I still listen to some of the same music I did at that age (*NSYNC, Christina), I still have posters on my wall (not as many, only the storebought ones, and four of them at that), I still have copious celebrity crushes, and I'm still slightly insanely insecure. But at the same time, I feel older--I don't like the bulk of the current music; I prefer Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin. I don't have the same attitudes about some things. I'm really serious when some kids my age would be acting silly.
I... I don't know where I fit in because of this. I don't act my age. I don't exactly know how. I kind of stick out because of this and no one really understands me. And the one person who did now thinks I'm immature and pointless and doesn't give a crap about me, 'cause she's one of them. One of the teenagers who knows how to really act like one. Who knows how to be one.
I didn't mean to turn this toward Christy, but God, she's the only one who got me and now no one does--who will understand me now? Or am I just going to spend the rest of my life feeling like a misfit and not knowing how to act and be my age?
I think entirely too much. But I miss my best friend.
