girl, interrupted

i was rummaging through some old boxes in our "junk room," which has recently traded places with our office that my husband graciously cleaned out.  i call it that because we shove all the unwanted crap from other rooms into that room to sort out later.  'later' being the operative word.  it's not quite hoarders material, but i still wouldn't let anyone cross the threshold if i had the choice.

anyway, i went in there looking for my arts & crafts box from my old apartment (and yes, i still haven't unpacked it although we're going on 5 years in our house) which i remembered had a box of blank cards that i needed.  partway into the box, i came across my diary from 2002.  i have not kept up with diaries in the past, but this one held a significant number of entries from a particular summer that i've decided to name "the summer from hell."

i read an entry, and then the next.  i couldn't stop reading.  who was this person? i thought.  it was as if i was reading the diary of a stranger, and almost felt wrong like i was spying on someone i didn't know.  some of the events, i remembered.. some of the names of people i wrote about, i didn't.  i cringed at certain parts and laughed at some others, wondering how i could be so naive, and let's face it, utterly obtuse.  dense.  gullible.

and the language!  i'm generally not a curser, but apparently nothing stopped me from writing anything on those pages.  one thing was for sure, i fed off emotion.  it was always at the surface, lurking beneath my skin.  i can't say that i am entirely different now, but at least restraint is in my vocabulary.

if, for any reason, and at any point, you doubt that you have changed, just go find an old diary or even an old box of junk to weed through.  seeing that glimpse of myself frozen in a moment of time was invaluable; mostly for the insight into who i am now, but also for the ability to say goodbye to the girl i once was.