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Free Writing (A reminder of the past) (xaela)
Monday, Jan. 06, 2003 ~ 1:31 a.m.
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I think about things all the time. I may not really talk about them much, and sometimes I don't write them down as much as I should. That's one of those things I'm going to try to work on. Perhaps it'll help me get back into writing like I'm trying to. One of the things I'm possibly going to do about this whole thing is choose some topic, not unlike the personal response paper I wrote for my poetry class, and just write. I'll tell a story. I seem to do that fairly well. I embellish just enough to make something that may not have been interesting turn into something that people want to read more of. That's the gift I have to nuture and let grow. I was trying to clean things up in this room today, including trying to get all my newer stuff put out of the way (i.e. into the closet), and I happened to come across a small box in the closet. It was still taped up from the move and it was labeled "Journals." I've been writing things down since I was 10. At least I think that's the earliest set of notes. Of course at 10 years old you don't really "write." I also had the tendency to exaggerate in my little one sentence entries, but hey, a girl can dream can't she? There were 5 books total in this box, three 5x7" and two smaller ones. The five of these, plus two others which are probably packed away with all my other books and two "tape journals", sum up my journaling. Well, at least before I came online and found this lovely place which I've called home for a little over two years now. Anyway, these hand written journals cover (on and off) from age 10 until I was about 19. They cover a good nine years of my life, which I've since realized that I was a confused, hormone driven teenage girl. I've realized that I could be in bad shape if I had been stupid on top of all of that. I could have gotten myself into so much trouble if my mind didn't kick in and control me at times. I guess though, that when you're that age, you have different priorities. You tend to throw the word "love" around much more than we do now. I never really talked about how I felt or anything. My biggest subject tended to be my "flavor of the week" or so. Of course I never really did anything with these guys, I just secretly wished they were mine. As I was reading, I realized that I don't even remember who half of them were, let alone what they looked like or how I met them. Heh. Sometimes I wish for those simpler times. It'd be nice to be back there with all the people I grew up with. Maybe I'd even be married or something by now, and that's a scary thought. You can't help but wonder though. I mean, maybe Keith and I were never destined to be. I always thought that if I wouldn't have moved, we would have gotten together, and I still think that, but I also think that there's a very big possibility that he still would have done what he did and gotten into the stuff that he did and we would have ruined our friendship. But instead, I did move away and our friendship ended, it faded into nothing. I may feel that it was all wrong, but I think I know deep down that it was what was best. Reading the journals brought back some good memories though. If any of you have come over from my old diary, you may have seen the double entry titled "My Ideal Man" that I did while I was unemployed. In that entry, I named someone that fit that description. (And you may also know that we've recently gotten back in touch with each other through the net.) I ran across the entry that I did the night that he first kissed me (and the only time, but that's alright) and it brought a smile to my face. It was a smile of rememberance, a fondness for a memory that will stay a memory. That whole deal is in the past and it will stay in the past. We've moved on to another stage of our relationship. My mind keeps going back to Keith. I wish I had a chance for the two of us to talk things through and move on. Closure if you will. People have told me that I should just forget him, or that I should just send him the personal response paper I wrote. His parents probably still live at the same house. I don't think I could ever forget him. Not when he was such a big part of my life for so long. I'm tempted to send him that paper, but I'm afraid he might wonder what the hell I was on. After all, it was a story I was telling. I did embellish a little here and there. I'm also tempted to send him the diary entry I did the night that I actually got a response from him on AIM, only to get a doorslam sound as he went offline when I tried to start a real conversation with him. That's the conversation that inspired "Renewed Pain," what I feel is probably one of my most powerful poems. I think you've probably read enough of my ramblings for one evening. I haven't done a free write like this in quite a while. It was nice to do and I think that no matter what, I should do this, even if it takes away 45 minutes of sleep for a night, it's something that I need to do. Somedays I may have nothing to say, but I'll write anyway. Blessed Be 0 comments so far   
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