Today, I was skimming through old journals of mine that I’d kept since I was about eight or nine until the last one I filled from last year. Most of them were written when I was in primary school and high school.
My, my, what a different person I was. As a child, I seemed to be a bit airy fairy and a bit of a loner who was fine living in my own little world. In the journals I wrote in my teens, some of those elements are still there, but not as pronounced. There were recounts of incidents of high school bullying. There were recounts of things I had done wrong, like saying or doing the wrong thing and upsetting someone. There were times I was coming across as a snarky, angry little teenager. There were times I wrote about what me and my friends got up to during school and what we did out of school. And then I seemed to have grown up into a young adult with lots of dreams and ambitions about what I wanted to do and a still somewhat naive view of the world around me. And then the tables turned and what I wrote reflects on how little I had thought of myself, how low my self-esteem and self-confidence is and how negative and hard I am on myself. I don’t know if it’s because certain flaws and bad and negative things I do without realizing has been pointed out.
It’s strange to see how much I have changed from the first few journals I’ve kept to the ones I kept in my late teens and early twenties. I don’t know if I’ve become more articulate with who I am and what I need to change to be a better person. I have seemed to focus on my short comings in the last few journals than what I had in the earlier ones. The earlier ones seemed to focus on the short comings of others. In fact, in a couple of them, I was nicer when writing about a former friend of mine that I had a falling out with than my own sisters. I don’t know if that had anything to do with sibling rivalry.
And I can’t get over how well I managed to get across how nasty the high school bullies were or how superficial they were. Most of my classmates thought it was fun being nasty to me and thought it was all a big game and something the ‘cool’ and popular kids did because no one liked me. I was the most disliked person in the whole school while I was there and yet I was the most popular with all the gossip and rumours that were going around that school about me. And they wondered why I had hardly anything to do with them. I always thought it was pointless spending time with these people if all they did were be mean to me.
I wonder what I would think of these journals in five years, ten years, twenty years time (that’s if I decide to keep them all)? I wonder who I would be then and what I would think of these reminders of who I had been?