The Girl in Black

Se necesita una poca de gracia.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Oh. My. God.

I. Am so. Embarassed.

But first, backstory: I have left my job and am moving to Colorado Springs. In the interum between job disruption and vacating Orlando, I am sorting through all of the stuff I've carried around with me for aeons. This is the third night of my work.

And yes, now I'm embarassed.

I finally sorted through a box innocently labeled "papers" so as to hopefully throw off anyone who might want to go through its contents. Obviously, this box contained "art" and writing (a.k.a. teenage poetry) that dated all the way back to middle school.

Oh, there is no way in hell anyone is going to look at this stuff. I'm the only person in my apartment and I'm blushing! Gods.

I actually threw some of the poetry most offensive to me away, as well as a few drawings that were remnants of my habit of copying other people's art. (I kept some of it. Fond memories and all.)

I could've thrown everything away I suppose, except for the little voice telling me to hang onto it all "for posterity."

Okay. Stop.

How could anyone look at this stuff and think me a credible person ever afterwards? I was no "budding genius." Just another misunderstood and angsty kid who tried to vent through sappy poetry and bad drawings (and I knew it at the time too). Although, I suppose it could possibly be of interest to the psychological community as examples of ways that angst-ridden teens act out?

*laughs* Okay, so yeah, I'm embarassed. But I'm keeping all the important and special stuff. And only I will know exactly what is actually important and special.

And no, you can't see.

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