Tuesday, 19 September 2017

Moments of Clarity

They're like a montage of fleeting moments in an indie film, like supercuts edited together.

I was driving up a hill in peak hour traffic ~or as peak hour as this city can get anyway.  The sky was a soft pink and the red lights of cars were Glowing.  I didn't even like the Justin Bieber song that was playing at the time.  It was so counter... deep. 

Nevertheless, sitting there I realised that I was deserving.  For the first time, I actually saw myself as a human being; I wasn't ashamed of my thoughts.  In fact, I actually quite liked myself.  It's hard to explain, but you see, sometimes you never seem to get what you want, and sometimes you can't even picture yourself getting what you want - like that thing you want never even crossed your mind.  Yet, that thing you want, other people have it, so it must be possible.

It was the first time I realised that I am just as entitled to things as other people are.  Sometimes you don't understand this lack of confidence or underdog feeling because you're simply in denial.  "I am a strong independent woman, right?"  Perhaps you don't understand yourself as well as you think.  A superiority complex could exist, or the angsty puts-up-walls-because-scared-people-will-see-the-real-me could be a real thing too.


Warm water running and just standing there, absolutely still.  It'd been a lethargic day of eating chocolate and reading my watercolour-embossed diary.

Somehow I can remember every thought as soon as it's read.  I remember feeling that way, I remember what happened and the entire phase.  Like, it's all just one big continuous phase, isn't it?  A notebook-long phase until the pages run out.  Is that when the new theme of my life begins again?

Writing is funny like that.  It time-capsules feelings.  It documents thoughts.  I am every single person who recorded words in my diary.  I'm the girl who's worried about getting fat, the girl who yells at herself to study, the girl who accuses her sister of being jealous, the girl who is lonely and then suddenly feels loved, then sad.  Somehow the voices stay the same.

When I'm older and read this diary, I'll remember what it was like to be 17 again on an emotional level, and that's so cool.


Love,
M

6 comments:

  1. Post like these make me wish I was seventeen again.

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  2. this is the only blog i have email alerts on for and im so happy i do

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  3. Oh my gosh, wow.

    ...

    "I am every single person who recorded words in my diary."

    *drops mic*

    You will so, SO appreciate having those words to reflect on later. I have all my 17-year old journals and it's amazing to see how I've changed and life has progressed. Seriously the best thing!

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  4. When I'm older and read this diary, I'll remember what it was like to be 17 again on an emotional level, and that's so cool.


    I still do that every once a while. To see how as a person how I grew.Its silly at times, but beautiful to read through all those teenage stories. To live through it all again.:)

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