during a process

It’s been halfway through summer break already. Unfortunately, unlike last summer, I don’t have an adventure to document here. I find I’m becoming less eloquent. Not saying I was particularly so before, but that the tone I write with doesn’t really suit what I usually write about, especially on my blogs. I think I used to also be more personal, and didn’t mind as much as I do now about the information presented here for the general public. Maybe that also affects the quality of these posts: when I’m being impersonal I’m not entirely honest. It’s kind of fake, in a way. But I hope to keep here the more optimistic and public view of myself, with the whole setting goals and monthly check-ins plan I’ve been sticking to for the most part of my high school career. It’s like… the one consistent item in a existence constantly changing. That’s what I’m hoping for, anyway.

Recently I haven’t been doing much writing. Or drawing, for that matter. This was originally because I had classes, but then turned into laziness. So I’ve been consuming media, and becoming much too invested in tv shows (once again. Every summer.) only to break my own heart. But that’s alright! I have my OSTs. I say I hoard music, but to put it more accurately… it would be that I hoard memories. Which is not a particularly new thing, of course. When I listen to music I don’t actually just leave it on shuffle. Usually I find something new to listen to every few weeks, and sometimes I find a song I really like, and just listen to it on repeat until A) I find something I like more, B) it becomes boring, or C) I associate it with a bad memory. The OSTs I have playing right now remind me of the drama it came from, and also some weird experiences from when I was little. Strange, insignificant, unattached memories. Sometimes it’s a specific mindset, or strictly emotions. Depending on my mood, I can pull different feelings out of a song. It’s really messy, how I described it, but I think that’s why I’m always listening to music. That way, I can stay in my own mind, grounded by the validation of my experiences.

I used to think I was full: of ideas, of thoughts, of memories and emotions. I guess now I don’t see it that way, but rather the opposite. The reason I am easily swayed by movies and books is that I am empty. Absorb and let go. Flow.

Anyway, in September both of my siblings will be going to school! This is both exciting and terrifying, although I suppose I am not the person who is supposed to be terrified. My brother will begin kindergarten (which I have somewhat fond memories of), and my sister will~ finally~ join~ me~ I don’t know if that terrifies me more than my brother going to school, but that is all just part of the reality I have to accept~

I was really nervous about starting Grade 8. I wrote long emotional posts and diary entries as if that would somehow slow my transition into this part of growing up. I was… very against growing up. I guess what I didn’t want was the responsibility of having to take charge of my learning (or something.), and that I suddenly had choices to make when I didn’t even know what the consequences are. Or what anything was. Not knowing anything is almost scarier than a bad end. Anxiety comes from not being able to control your future more than simply worrying. I think this is one of my problems: I want so badly to be able to control everything I come in contact with. I want to be able to regulate myself and become neutral, and have things turn out the way I set them up to be. Since this rarely happens, I become agitated and confused at the outcome. Wanting to be in control isn’t unique either, which is fine. I think becoming aware of your issues is the first step towards reforming. (But I digress.)

I don’t really remember the summer before Grade 8 very well. I’m pretty sure all I did was complain and be a party pooper. Although I think I had more of a personality then, what with all the “preserving my dignity” and “refusing to grow up” part. If I could tell 13y/0 me about the future, I would probably just tell her to drink more water. That’s always good. Things happen for a reason anyway. I don’t quite know what my sister thinks about school starting, but it can’t possibly be that much different. When you’re 13, you’re pretty judgemental. You’re confident in how little you know. I know that 3 years doesn’t make that much of a difference, but it’s enough for me to realize that I was… pretty darn stupid when I was 13. I like to think I’m a different kind of stupid now. As for not growing up: I haven’t, not really. I still act and look pretty much the same as I always have. The parts of me that grow up don’t have to be visible.

 

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