I can feel the length of summer holidays setting in. every day seems white and long and muffled.
i threw out all my old diaries yesterday. i found them in a shoe box under my dexk. it only took a few minutes flicking through them to realise there is nothing more painful and embarassing than old diaries. i wrote them when i was in high school, they're full of crushes and angst. it felt good to throw them away, it's probably a bad thing to run away from your past, but it felt good. at the moment, being rid of such memories is worth sacrificing a moment in the future when i'm all grown up, reading them again with a tear running down my cheek for my lost youth or whatever. what i really didn't like about them though, aside from the content, from what i actually wrote, was my handwriting. you could see in the very way i formed the letters how i was struggling between childhood and adulthood, and how i was in limbo, not in one place nor in the other. i could see the haste of an adult's writing combined with wide round letters and as much neat style as a child. i don't like the way i used to write. yes, the old handwriting distressed me.