I wrote the following in my journal when I was 11. It kills me to read this because I remember so vividly how I felt back then.
It’s been forever scince I’v written. Carrie is my best friend. Abby moved to Georgia. I hate life. What’s the pourpous? I only have 3 friends. Rachel, Amy and Carrie. I hate myself. Get this. Yesterday I asked some people if I could play with them. They said yes but twice during recess they all pulled off to the side and whispered and laughed. They didn’t include me in the conversation so I figure it was about me. Carrie started her period. I don’t know why but I kind of wish I would start mine. I don’t know what to do. I’m depressed and I have been for the past couple of days. I just can’t shake the lousy mood I’m in. I hate myself!!! I hate life!!!
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11 comments:
Oh...sadness! What's the pourpous indeed. Poor little you. I'm glad you became awesome adult you. I'm still convinced that most rockin adults were this little kid. Though it sounds like you were reading too much "Are you there, God, it's me, Margaret" back then. ;-)
I never kept any journal I ever wrote. I have no thoughts from when I was young to haunt me now. Also, no memories. But there are tradeoffs in life.
Are you sure you didn't lift that from my 11 year old journal??
Awwww, I'm flattered by the awesome adult part. Not so sure I agree thought.
How did you not keep a journal? I was guilted into it by church leaders. I think you were more resistant to regular guiltings than I was.
Rippy, too bad we didn't find each other at that age.
Aw, Ros. This about made me cry. 11 was a horrible year for me. (And 12 and 13 and 14, as I recall)I was TOTALLY that little kid, too.
Yes, you are the awesome adult! Those gigglers and whisperers are the bland, blase, awful adults. And yes, I have done a double blind study of this. I will soon get it peer reviewed. Diana will do it. I am almost her peer.
I kept a journal (though I never called it that) because of my own self (I fancied myself to be Harriet the Spy). I always resented it when they made it a "commandment." Blech.
Oy, I am no journal keeper. I have a hard time not deleting blog posts wholesale. I'm trying to be a goddam grownup here.
Yes, I was totally that little kid too. And I know that those little kids grow up to be (A) axe murderers, (B) Bosses From Hell, or (C) THE MOST AWESOME PEOPLE. I could ONLY categorise you as a C-type person. Like the rest of us sympathetic chicks here, who all identify with your wee 11-year-old.
Guilt: A very weird thing for me. I was never motivateable by guilt. I started my own personal philosophy of "Guilt is for SUCKERS!" when I was about 17, and I've lived my own standards since birth (ask my mom). I feel guilt for dumb things like honking at someone when driving (what if it's some poor single parent who has had a Truly Awful Day??) or not saying hi to someone because I didn't see them, not for silly things like partying like it's 1999 my whole life and picking and choosing which "commandments" (surest way to get me not to do something is to try and "command" me) to "obey" (I hate that word). LOL.
Blah dee blah - you're awesome, deal with it. :-)
Yep. Count me in too. I was that awkward girl at age 11 too. And I was 5'9" by age 13 too, so I was really awkward physically and socially inept.
Which is why I watched people more than interacted and why I can now say I am GLAD to have been that girl and not one of the popular, so-called lucky ones. Ugh. Those girls are not to be envied.
I am going to have to reciprocate and declare my love for wry, bel rippy, and sml. I would like to bear my apostate-mony. I know these women are awesome. Now can we light a cigarette and vow to respect each other in the morning?
Isn't it amzing how self-aware children are? I am sorry about your heartache though.
Hey, stop looking at my diary!! We all seem to be living parallel lives! Cool!
I see myself here too. Except when I was 11, I was still happily playing with StarWars and Legos. This was more like me at 13.
"Harriet the Spy," "Are You There God, It's Me, Margaret?" are also books I emulated. And don't forget "Dear Mr. Henshaw."
Sounds like me. Except for the period part. Being a guy, that'd be a little awkward.
I try not to read my old journals too much. They just make me sad.
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