Just in spite of the year that's gone by...

The first thing is this: it's been over a year. And I missed the exact anniversary.

Besides the fact that blogging has been less of a constant for me lately, I also realize that this blog started as something about reading. It quickly became something about life in general...and then it was simply my writing. But on life, I think know what inspired me. It was the idea of publishing the things that may have been disregarded by the rest of the world, tiny nonentities. Nothings. Maybe, at the time, thats what I considered myself to be; but I also assumed I was not alone in wishing that people would take note, remember these things. Remember me.

I also used to talk about my "story." Which has become so unimportant to me now. My story is simply my life- because I know, every day, it will keep changing. Nothing's going to stop that. But writing about it as it goes on is what I can do to keep it under control- at least for a little while.

In my first bog post, I said that I lived by the theme of "no day but today." And I think I've often tried to be someone else...especially in the last year, at times when I felt I had been able to change my life, raise the standards. But at some point, I just fell back down again, ending up where I started.

And I know for a fact that I was more ambitious during the time before this; if it weren't for my experiences, I might have gotten right back up and tried again. But I didn't. I just let my life take me in the destined direction (trying not to be too cheesy here), and some things worked out. Some didn't. I'm still waiting for a lot. And I keep looking, imagining the future. So it would be safe to say that I don't always exactly live in the moment, like I originally thought I did. Or maybe hoped.

But I still write. And as I grow up, as I have a lot since I began blogging, I guess I tend to keep it more personal. Less confidence may come from the fact that I'm more aware of it, as well as judgement...and every little detail.

And I also think so much- about pretty much every little detail. Which keeps me occupied about 95% of the time. Once in a while I just have to listen to music over and over again, blocking out the rest of the world- at least for those few moments alone. Whenever I open my eyes it's just all there again, waiting for me to figure out. People, and life in general...sometimes I need to focus on me, I end up losing track of myself...

I'm not going to lie; I have regrets, friendships I lost for the better and some that tore me to shreds- but, as everything seems to be for me, it was all indirect. Which, I think, can sometimes make it harder. I've seen the fake in myself and other people, but I've spent just as much time looking for the good. I wish I could say I'm better off without all that, but sometimes it makes me sad when I think back to my whole life last year, which is very different now.

I'm still drinking hot chocolate on Thursdays, still writing in the backs of my school notebooks in my free time. I want to see what happens next- and I know I'm impatient. There's a lot in my life I'm unsure of, but this I know: I will continue to always see things with the eyes of a writer. So at least I can say that much for myself.

Funny- that all just sort of came out at once, without thinking.