Monday, January 12, 2009

For Packing Up It Sure Feels Like Unloading...

So I was getting started on the undesirable task of packing up my shit last night when I paused for a moment to read through one of my old journals. It was the 96-98 journal and I was 11-13 years old. It was the journal written during my parents divorce and my family's demise. A lot went down. Surprisingly, the topic I wrote about most was boys.

Which ones I liked, who had asked me out, who called me, who left notes in my locker. I started to wonder if I was just a healthy young teenager back then or something of a little whore in the making. I decided against the latter. I was a cutie and often the token black girl, so of course I was the flavor. Duh.

Aside from reminiscing about the times when my facebook friends were still my "face-to-face" friends, I started to realize something...



Anonymous said...

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