I randomly clicked on a page of my blog (out of nearly 200 pages of snippets) and stumbled upon an entry in 2007, written ten years ago. How ironic that the feelings I had then kind of ring true today. Nowadays I seem to have lost my words and express myself in other shitty ways, but back then I expressed myself through text because I felt like there was nobody to listen or understand.

But there are so many times, so many I couldn’t begin to tell you, where I sank deep into myself and peered out at everyone, and everyone looked like a stranger to me.

There are times now when I don’t know how I’m feeling, but somehow teenage me ten years ago was able to¬†perfectly describe how I feel today.

It discourages me, but I hope sometime before I die, I can truly be happy.

But anyways, I’m sure I’ll reach happiness (probably). Death is unpredictable, but for the most part a person’s life span is relatively long. I’ve got maybe like 50 years left on me, give or take a decade. That is a long ass time. (Unless of course, I get struck by lightning, which is nearly 1 in a million chance…and then of those people that get struck, only 10% actually die. Although, chances of being in a car accident and dying is only like 1 in 13,000 where I live. Okay, let’s just forget about that.)

I didn’t spend ten years being miserable. I found happiness in between. Acres and acres of rolling hills, up and down, up and down. Large patches of dry, brittle grass, but also large stretches of rich, green grass. It’s just a part of the process, isn’t it?

Huh. Mega coincidence that I ran into this old blog entry. Interesting. Cue the curtains to close and take away my soapbox. Carry on.

One Year