I say that I don’t care about being pretty or looking nice a lot.
But I actually try really, really hard.
And when midnight strikes and the magical illusion wears off, I stare at myself in the mirror and collapse.
Me? Fall victim to such a petty and superficial thing? Never.
But in reality, I try so hard to be pretty, and I don’t succeed.
God I want you here. I want to walk to your house but you’re not there. I want to jump into your arms and stay there, but they’re across the country.
I’ve been writing since I was in 2nd grade. I remember the first time I ever journaled, which is sitting on my bookshelf: I really want some mac + cheese.
Now well into my crazy teenage years, this is the longest time I went without writing (approximately 2 months).
Because something bad happened.
My promise to myself was that I was always going to journal my life, good or bad, so I can look back in the future to a) kill time and b) to see how much I’ve grown.
But what happened was really bad. I never wanted to remember what happened, and I let the moment slip away.
And I haven’t written anything since. I’ve fixed that part of my life and it’s been a few weeks, so why haven’t I written anything yet? I don’t know. To by honest my stomach is churning. It was churning the entire time I was making this tumblr. I actually had one a while back, but deleted it…2 months ago. Now when I look back on it, it was good that I deleted it. It was really good.
So what’s the purpose of this blog? Mainly for me, so I can look back in the future and see how I’ve grown. I’ve been accused in the past of journaling on tumblr because I want attention. On my old tumblr, I had about 7 followers and some of them commented frequently on my posts and it felt nice. But in reality, I don’t want attention. Not specifically. I like the idea of being part of something bigger, like people could stop and see what I have to say.
Attention? Sure, I don’t mind followers but I’m not particularly aiming for them.
I’m just a girl who wants to write.