I was going through my old notebooks this morning. By notebooks, I mean those school scratch books that you could buy for like a dollar (or less, not like I remember anymore), and there were all these things scribbled into it. Old plots, diary entries, poems, short stories, little quotes I found funny...

The thing is, I've changed but I've not changed. Does that make sense? I didn't think so.

A lot of those quotes and diary entries revolved around who I liked at the time. Heavens there were so many. I'm sort of embarrassed by my 13 year old self. Has it really been 5 years since my pencil moved across those pages? It's so strange to think about it. In the span of 60 months, someone can change. Heck, in 12 months someone can change. Even sooner, if you think about it. I think I've matured a little bit in the sense that I'm more willing to give in a relationship than I was before. This year- well the last few months with let's call him Dopey- has really taught me the value of patience. At the same time, he's taught me that sometimes it's capable to give too much. At some point there comes the tipping of the balance, where either you give or you take more than the other person can afford. And after that point, you can choose to let the relationship go- to let it crumble before you, or you can try to fix it, to restore that balance where you can afford to give and take. 

For us it didn't work out so hot, but then he did decide to go the other way. We can't say we didn't try. 

Look at me, being all thoughtful! My 13 year old self would have gone into a self-pitying mood, writing lovesick poems and attempting to write songs and taking it out on the poor notebook. Not that I didn't do it of course, 

BUT ANYWAY. Yeah. In that respect, I may have matured a bit. People come and people go right?

Here's what hasn't changed. 

In particular, one of my notebooks had lots of inscriptions and thoughts written down about one guy in particular. Let's just call him... Jack. Because I just watched Titanic and I think it's super sad and gosh dang it Rose why would you let him go after you said you wouldn't, you liar?

But I digress. 

So clearly, I was head over heels for Jack. Which, to everyone was blatantly obvious, I suppose, since I'm terrible at hiding things. But anyway, looking over the notes and poems and stuff, I guess I was genuinely miserable about leaving. Leaving him actually to be more exact. Which is natural I guess since I did actually like him at the time. Now what bothers me is that when I read those notes, thoughts, poems, this wave of nostalgia took over. That most certainly did not happen when I was reading about the other guys. That did not happen an hour ago when I was chatting with one of the guys I used to like in US. It most certainly did not happen when I was talking to Dopey. No. It only happened with Jack. 

We don't even talk anymore. Does he remember my name? I doubt it. And clearly we never went anywhere, so this shouldn't even be an issue. But it is. And I can't help wondering about it.

That's something that hasn't changed about me. I wonder too much. I think about things that don't happen, about the things that did happen, about the things that should have happened, about the things that will happen. Wondering is good. It stimulates the brain. Or maybe, it just makes you too pensive. Thoughtfulness will kill me one day if I don't watch it, I swear. Living in the 'maybes' is not healthy for anyone. Living in the 'maybes' makes you oblivious to the absolutes. 

Maybe I should just major in philosophy when I get to college. Oh what a joke.

On a completely unrelated matter, Sailor Moon really gets on my nerves. Crybaby wimp. -______- 

'set the fire to the third bar', snow patrol ft. martha wainwright