I was cleaning out my cupboard the other day and dumping a lot of stuff that's like more than 10 years old and I came across my old diaries. As I read through them I could only snicker in disdain over my naivete and my proclamations of love for people who are frankly not my type now or even if they are my type, they probably wouldn't be interested in the person I am today... I admit I've changed much over the years but as I finished reading my old diary entries I never realized how different I was back then. Mind you those journals were written when I was like 13,14 years old but I just couldn't believe how hopeful I sounded and how much I believed in love and a happy ending. I wasn't naive for a 13 year old but I still hoped to meet a nice guy or maybe even a Prince Charming. Now... I don't want a Prince Charming or a knight in shining armor... I don't want love and I certainly don't believe in happy endings. I don't want marriage and I detest the thought of commiting to someone in any way. Still the biggest shock for me was how much I liked kids (babies, toddlers etc.) back then. If I didn't read it with my own two eyes, I probably wouldn't believe it especially since I don't like kids now. The thought of me having children or being a mother gives me nightmares. I'm too selfish to be a mother and I certainly am uncomfortable with the thought of having to be someone's everything. As bad as this sounds... it's true... So in my true emo fashion, I've decided to burn all my old diaries. Though I have started journalling again, I probably won't ramble about my love for some undeserving ass again. If I do... I'll probably hit my head against the wall.
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