Every time I sit down at my computer to blog I get half way through and then quit. I can't do it, I really can't. I don't know why! I love to talk, it's what I do best. Well, some people might disagree on that one, but that's because they just don't appreciate a good conversation. And I'd like to think that I do have interesting things to say. Whenever I talk to people I never see them rolling their eyes, yawning, looking away, etc. In fact, I've had people tell me I'm fun to talk to. I just can't quite... But I will do it! I'm going to finish this blog, post it, and NOT delete it. I promise.
Okay. After many minutes of brainstorming I think I've got it.
After many years of sitting around in my bedroom (friend's bedrooms) complaining about how it sucks to be fifteen (fourteen, thirteen, etc.) I've finally reached my junior year in high school. We're sixteen, yeah baby! I'm not going to say it's different than I expected it to be, because it's totally not. So far, (I say so far because I've only been sixteen for four months) it's been pretty much as I dreamed it would be. Not completely though, nothings ever EXACTLY the way you think it is. But then again it is different. There was this girl who I'd been friends with ever since I started at my school way back in the fifth grade. We knew everything about each other. I honestly don't think there was one thing about my life she didn't know, and vice versa. And then one day everything just, changed. All right, not one day. Looking back now I see that it was slowly happening over time. The way those things usually do. I started doing more things with other people, time began to escape my fingers, I heard she was saying stuff about me, and then silence. Nothingness. It was like there was this wall built between us that neither of us could breach. Basically, it fell apart. It's sad, it truly is. I loved this girl as my own sister. It's also sad because I don't feel anger, hatred, hurt. All those things that show you still have emotion for the person. I feel indifference, the opposite of love. I've changed, or grown up rather, and she's different too. We just don't mesh anymore. As I said it's sad, but sort of a release. I don't feel like I have to pretend anymore, which is worse in a ways.
It's weird, realizing this. I'm growing up. Just a few months ago I would have been all over this drama like a mouse on cheese. I mean I LIVED for drama, it was like the air I breathed. And now I just try to avoid it like the plague. Really, though, who has time for it? There's just too much to do and see to worry about who said what, she did this, I didn't do that. I can feel myself crossing the threshold from infinite childhood. I say crossing because I know I haven't crossed it. I do things I maybe shouldn't, I act a certain way that really isn't acceptable sometimes. Maybe that's a good thing though, I don't think I want to ever really be fully grown up. To me, it sounds awfully dull. I love my adventuresomeness, my spontaneity, my drive. I hope to God I never lose these. I like that I've grown up, matured, yet I still know how to have fun and let loose. For some people it's one or the other: either they have a stick up their butt or they just don't know how to act mature when the situation calls for it. I like to think I'm somewhere in between, and I hope to stay there once I reach my full maturity.
Words of Wisdom: Never buy torn up jeans. Cheap jeans, sand paper, and a washing machine will do.
(I did it! Woooooo!)