I read my old diaries and I learned a valuable lesson from myself.
Young me taught present me things I didn’t realize before.
hi. wow, it’s been a long time, isn’t it? it’s about two years since I last wrote here.
hmm. life has been… life. same ol’ up and downs, highs and lows. surprises, both good and bad. failed some subjects, passed them, failed again. pulled myself back up, finally got what I want, then realized what I got isn’t what I need. ’twas a rollercoaster ride, I can say.
well, I don’t really know why I’m writing right now. I’m currently watching Mr. and Mrs. Smith on TV and I had the urge to open my laptop and write. well, that and I haven’t written about my “feelings” for the past two days. see, my subject teacher asked me and my classmates to write in a journal notebook every day about what we feel, what we’re doing, and whatnot.
but enough about that.
I read my old diaries/journals when I was in elementary last Saturday, by the way. I guess that initiated my urge to write again. writer’s block sucks.
my handwriting was horrible. or is, is horrible. I wrote past the lines, and no one (at the time I wrote in my diaries) succeeded at deciphering what I wrote. I liked drawing and scribbling, so I drew a lot in my diaries. I was never really a good artist, but I love to draw anything so I did that a lot. some drawings show what happened in a day, some are just mindless scribbles in-between classes.
I misspelled words a lot. aside from my handwriting, I also messed up the spellings of words I wrote. I laughed it all off now, though. it really is funny.
if I didn’t know now, I will know that I am definitely, with utmost certainty, not straight. the scribbles I also found are messy images of my 11-year-old self stealing a smooch from my then-girl crush. I also found proposals for my then-girl crush (they’re the same person). wedding proposals, I add. ugh, just thinking about it now makes me cringe and laugh at my own idiocy. well, being enrolled at a catholic, all-girls school does that. but I guess even if I wasn’t enrolled in that school before, I would still be, well, not straight.
trigger warning: suicide
a journal’s not just filled with positives, I guess. along with the fun times, I also read how I wanted to just… die. it’s funny, I remember always telling myself that this is it, I can finally end everything but I always backed out the second before I do it. when I was once 11, I had a bad day. it was really bad. the domino effect of unfortunate events began early in the morning and continued throughout the day. I was writing everything in my journal in hopes to make that day a little better, but it was to no use. I just documented one of the worst days of my life. I vividly remember, unfortunately, the night of that same day. I couldn’t take it. I ran out of my room and went to the kitchen, which was only a few steps away. I grabbed my mom’s chef knife, went back to my room, and almost opened my wrists. note, almost. my mom’s friend called and the dogs barked, so I shakily slotted the knife in its holder and padded quietly to my room. I was in a trance.
I wrote all about that night in my journal. I read it last Saturday. last Saturday isn’t the first time that I read my journal after I was done writing in it. I used to cry when I read that dark part of my journal. gradually, I went from sad to indifferent to accepting. they say that if you read a book during different times in your life, you would also have different views, perspectives, and feelings about said book. when I read that journal, usually I feel really bad for myself. I would feel indifferent. but last Saturday, I felt like I want to hug and comfort my past self. I want to cry with her. I want to hold her in my arms and make her feel at ease. I don’t have a sibling, so I only have myself. I wasn’t comfortable opening up and talking to my mom, and I can’t open up to my friends too, because then I thought that I would be a burden to them. I only had myself and my pencil and my journals to write and draw in.
wow, I sound pathetic.
kidding! I’m kidding.
after reading my journals/diaries, I returned it to where I found it and carried on my day, thankful that I didn’t do what I wanted to do when I wrote in that journal. looking back, I’m happy and thankful because I never expected to be who I am today. I didn’t expect to be still alive, writing and reading, and doing some stuff I didn’t have the courage to do before. there’s more out there that I haven’t scratched off my bucket list yet, but I know that someday if I have the courage to, I will get to experience and do those things.
and you know what? so will you. if you want to end it right now, then before you do so, read this article. this convinced me to stay. I hope it does the same for you, too.
now, go. take care of yourself. pat yourself on the shoulder. drink water. play your favorite songs and dance in front of your mirror. sing in the shower. be yourself. love yourself.
