If you dare open this notebook, boy you're asking for it! Even if you're a best friend, don't go any further! If you're a worst enimy or not a friend, I'll report you! I'm warning you, if I find you with this, or if I find out at all, you'll be sorry! I would reccomend you should shut this journal immediatly! Now! I'll find you! You better put this back in my backpack or desk now! I could be coming any minute and I'll kick your butt! Good-bye! Alright, I'm gonna catch you and don't say I didn't warn you! Don't come crying to me when you have a talk with the princapal or vice-princapal, go!
Clearly, I was scarred by the time not long before this was written that a classmate found and read my previous diary, and revealed my uber crush to the class, and, more importantly, to my crush. Oh, the memories. What's funnier, though, is that I went back a couple of years later and commented in the margins on the page, in all my milky pen-ness, writing things such as, "That is sooo retarded!" and "Wasn't I messed up?! LOL." At least I spelled "retarded" right. I think at one point within the diary, I actually explain to my future self what acronyms such as lol and ttyl mean. You know, in case I were to ever go senile.
Several pages later, I write an entry titled "Spying." In it, I'm creeping on kids in the class, describing their every move:
Amanda-- Getting all discusted over a weird-looking penut butter and jelly sandwitch
Brandon-- Also discuted
Amanda always has this stupid look on her face. Her nose crinkles up and her eyes squint tightly. It looks so idiotic! She also stuffs her bra.
Linda doesn't want to be Jocelyn's friend so she told her. Jocelyn begged her to be her friend so Linda said okay. Linda still doesn't like her.
You can't make this stuff up.
After I started this blog, I was inspired to find my old Xanga page and re-read all of those entries, too. These were even more painful (if not slightly more entertaining) to read, since they were written from middle school to parts of high school. I was at the peak of my Bon Jovi craze--for the record, I am still obssessed--when this online journal began, so there'd be the occasional post in which I'd talk about how depressed and miserable I was, worried there was nothing in life to look forward to, and end it with a seemingly ADD-induced "I LOVE BON JOVIIII!!!!!!!1" In later entries, I'd give (almost) every detail about how my then-boyfriend and I spent our one- and three- and five-month anniversaries and that we were so-ho-ho in love. I bet even my best friends didn't read that drivel.
It's always fun discussing your past selves with friends-- sharing stories about all the dramatic and awkward times, separating your current self from your past self, playfully poking fun at who you used to be. But if a younger version of me were standing right next to me, I think I'd be a little nicer. Maybe give myself a hug, then hand her/me a matching outfit.
As I was just finishing, the Corrs' "Breathless" came on my iTunes shuffle. My best friend and I tried out for the talent show in sixth grade to this song, braces and all. For the auditions, we brought in bean bag chairs, acting out a skit with telephones to our ears reciting lines like, "I think he LIKES me!" before bursting into song along with the Corrs. We didn't make the cut. We are still best friends, though. Guess we did something right.
Post partially inspired by author John Green's vlog about his old diary: