So in the flurry that was cleaning up and moving house, I found an old diary. I had many. My diary keeping went on for years. And most of those I never lost and have reread to my amusement a hundred times. But this one somehow fell by the wayside and instead of doing homework just now, which I did genuinely mean to do but was a struggle because am feeling physically flat as a tack, I read it cover to cover after a pensive day of virtually complete solitude. Interesting times.
It is truly bizarre...what time does. What stays with us and what doesn't. The fleeting things I mentioned thinking in Two Thousand And One that turned out to be my cornerstones of belief now, and the things I thought I'd go to the ends of the earth for then that I shudder at now. Odd. Plus there's lots to be said for the whole documenting memories thing, even when you think at the time it's so important that you'll remember... you so rarely do. Ninety percent of this diary I had no recollection of writing or of the events occurring until I read about them and it came flooding back. And then there's the perspective. The adult perspective that points out that things you thought you deserved, said by certain spoilt private school bratty boys, weren't actually your fault and the boys were jerks. Such things were clearly agonised over for weeks, pulled apart, 'why would they think that? argh.' .. such wasted time. Who cares what they think, Years-Ago-Theresa? The perspective that points out that the 'perfect' boy you 'loved' was only perfect in the sense that he reminded you of the main characters from the books and movies you were flooded with at the time, blonde, buff, popular...and boring. Looking back on it now, he really was. And having stayed in touch..I've seen his life turn out exactly how I knew it would and become a life I very briefly thought I wanted but quickly realised I didn't.
The entry about having met the random boy who became The Long Term Relationship of six plus years cracked me up because it was so insignificant. "We're going to be amazing friends. He's incredible." was all I'd written before moving on to more important things.
So much of this diary, unlike the ones before it and the ones that followed, really does revolve around boys, as I wandered into the world where 'early nights' were two am and I drank too much and listened to Creed Thankfully my music tastes changed. As did my taste in the lads. The quiet, slightly strange, smart boy who sported soft cardigans and who made ridiculously large romantic gestures towards me while I was busy blindly following Blondie , was determinedly pushed into the Friend category against his will for the entire thing, and it's only in hindsight that I know in a sequel years down the track after being close friends, logic clicked inside me and things crossed over, but he had a girlfriend. THAT I remember. And then remember him leaving her. And things becoming messy. And had I heard from some futuristic robot , back in the diary days, that out of all those people he was the one I would let things get messy for, I wouldn't have believed it. There is the friend I thought I would never lose, and did. To a cult. There is the friend who became gay, and my description of things that now seem obvious hints but at the time I clearly failed to register. And then there are the things that didn't change. My thoughts on books, on the world, all so similar to now. I wonder what I'll think looking back on current diaries? Will I laugh at what I thought now? Probably. Because there's definitely room to get wiser.
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