I spent a good part of today cleaning out the work/school things I brought home over the summer in an effort to get rid of as much as possible. My apartment isn’t very large and I don’t have the extra space for the boxes and chairs that I typically have to keep at home over the summer. So, long story short, I was consolidating some boxes in my closet to make room and ran across all of my old diaries.
Finding these old journals issued a time warp into my typically mundane afternoon. Next thing I know, hours have passed by and nothing has been accomplished, physically.
But, it was absolutely fascinating to read about what happened in high school and college through my younger eyes. I look back on certain events (Rush, for example) with more of an adult or skewed-over-time perspective and it was so refreshing to be reminded of who I was and how I saw the world. To be reminded of a time when my greatest worry was if so-and-so would go to Formal with me or what dress to wear to Pref Night.
What kills me is that all journaling ceased around January of 2003. At that time, I had a fairly new boyfriend, was in the madness of sorority life, and enjoying my freshman year of college – so I’m not at all surprised that I didn’t make the time to write anymore. But, my adult self mourns the loss of those years in a written form. As there’s no point in wishing what can’t be changed, I’m choosing to modify the future instead. I must keep writing about my days and my wishes and dreams, even if it is online. Because, one day when I’m 80, I’ll appreciate it.