Growing Pains

I was thinking about how much I've grown up since a year ago.

Last year at this time I was so madly in love my heart couldn't even take it. I was so depressed that alcohol, sleep, and writing were the only things that numbed my pain.

Now I look back on those feelings and I see a teenage kid. A little boy foolishly being fucked with by the mysteries of life. I'm still 19 though. I'm not even a 20-something yet, but I feel like the past year has changed me into something completely different.

Those feelings I had last year were so pure and so innocent and the way I reflected on them in this diary still amazes me now. I was writing on pure emotion. I didn't care what the structure of the sentence was, I just wanted to get the feelings on the paper. Now that I've been taking journalism classes and have been writing for a paper with an editor I am always looking for the right words to put in the perfect way. Perfection is the only thing I want to attain.

Maybe that is a reflection of how my life has changed since last year. I was so innocent then and I didn't care about anything other than how good or bad I felt, how much reading and writing I was doing and how much I was loving it, and how I was going to get a cheap bottle of vodka or wine to get myself through the weekend.

Now. Now I just feel old. I am apathetic to most everything that comes my way. Last year I used to lay in bed all day and think about how sorry I felt for myself, now I just walk around in anger and frustration about how nothing is going right. I have too many things to do and too many things to worry about to lay in bed all day and listen to music.

This is growing up. It's not that much fun. I don't think too many people are accepting me for it. But then again, I don't think many people are accepting growing up for themselves.

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