From time to time, I look back on the entries I've written over the past six years. It's amazing how memories which have completely slipped my mind suddenly come to life; I was more mature and aware than I gave myself credit for. Having my life chronicled before me is a sort of gift I've given myself, but YEESH. I still can barely stomach some of the stuff I wrote. Blocks and blocks of all caps, copious profanity, angst and judgment abound. What really gets me is that I kept most of my entries public, even when they were chock full of references to people I went to high school with. I hardly had anything nice to say about anyone, and I'm surprised someone didn't punch me in the face. My lack of discretion landed me in trouble a few times. Once, a kid in my school Googled himself in class one day, only to find my rather insulting entry. And my former history teacher threatened to sue for libel after some students found, printed, and made copies of some nasty things I wrote about him.

I've learned to tone it down a notch. Anytime I touch on a subject which I would feel uncomfortable with just one other person reading about, I make it private. I guess that's just part of maturing. Back then, I wanted people to know I was pissed off and miserable at my job. I didn't care if they had the scoop on my bad breakup or had access to the many, many entries where I penned my loathing for my mother. I thought I was some sort of revolutionary artist making a stand for free speech, and it would take some time to learn that privacy is really a very beautiful thing. And man, did I bitch like the dickens. I complained about EVERYTHING. I almost want to tell my teenage self to lighten up. Well, I hope I'm no longer that whiny, petty person I used to be. I hope I can say I'm stronger, smarter, and more prepared for life. Yet I couldn't have evolved to this point without writing as my catharsis, as juvenile and without proper capitalization as it was. I spent months pining for a guy I dated for three months--entries upon entries about how I loved him, how he was so important to me, how I would never forget him--and I look back and think, "What an IDIOT I was!" This guy is nothing to me now, but back then I could have sworn that our breakup had caused the earth to shift on its axis. It's kind of cute in a way. When my daughter comes home from school, crushed because a boy doesn't like her back, I can truly reassure her that it really does not matter.