I just wanted to share a few entries from the journal I kept when I was 13 years old, to show you what I was like 10 years ago. I'll leave it up to you to see if I've changed at all. :)

This is from my 13th birthday, October 12, 1992:

Today is my birthday. I always get depressed on my birthday and I have no idea why.

I invited *a whole mess of chicks* and *random guy I liked* to my party. Random Guy didn't come. He didn't call or anything. Now I think he's a macho motherfucking dickhead prick and I think he just thinks I'm really mad at him. I am. Really. Really. Really mad. He didn't come because he knew he'd be the only boy (of course I had to open my big mouth and tell him) but I think it's more than that. I don't know why I am so mad. I know it's because of Random Boy but I don't think that's all. I don't want to find someone else to be obsessed with just yet because I'm not ready, so I'll just stick with Random Boy for another week or so. Isn't that demented?

October 13th, 1992

I don't know whether I love or hate Random Boy. I didn't have a better day than I did yesterday. Let me tell you about yesterday. When there was 30 seconds until math and I was majorly late, I was trying to open my fucking locker when Mr. Random Boy and friend came over. He said he knew I was really pissed at him. I asked why he didn't call me or something and he said he didn't know my number, but then he actually told me what it was. That's what he said! Now what the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Do you know what its like to think about somebody or something 24 hours a day? It really sucks! Do you have any idea on how I could think about something else, like my failing grades in math?

I think I'm getting somewhere because he memorized my number. That is so cool. I wrote him a letter to meet him at lunch. I will be so pissed if he doesn't show up! I wrote "If you're not interested, neither am I!" This has not been a good day. It's 9:52 and I am so fucking tired, pissed, and fed up. GOOD NIGHT!

So far I'm not seeing a big difference here. I sucked at math, I thought about boys 24 hours a day, and I cussed like a sailor. Things really don't change!

Here's some fun times from January 25th, 1993. This is a few months later, and I have my first boyfriend ever. This is cute.

Oh my god! Oh my god! OH MY GOD! My first kiss! My first french kiss! Guess who! Eddie! Duh! We have gotten past the love part, that's practically all we ever say to each other. He knows I want to fuck him. Cool. But.. I'm not sure I do. Oh well. I'll deal with that when it comes up.

Lovely, eh? I'd like to note here that I didn't have sex for another 4 years. Just so we all know that.

Oh, this is a fun one.

February 20th, 1993 - He dumped me. The fuckin asshole dumped me. That skating rink is evil! Evil I tell you! He did it by simply giving me my necklace back. He said he just went out with me for the 2nd time because he took a pity date on me, but then he said he said that just to piss me off so I would love him the fuck alone.

REVENGE.

He might ask me to go out with him again, and I'll say yes, but it'll just be for revenge. That motherfucker is finally going to learn his lesson.

Wow, I really haven't changed, have I? Ehehehe. This is fun times.

Here's one from sometime in December of 1992. I like it because I'm trying to be all philosophical and shiznit.

I feel like a poser. Like I just listen to heavy metal to be cool. But I know that's a lie because - oh, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm sitting here in a car full of groceries (I actually remember writing this entry.. my mom was driving home from the grocery store while I wrote it.. ahh, such simple times back then) writing stupid thoughts that no one cares about, caring about people I'll never get to meet. *Random Guy* isn't going to ask me to go out with him. Danny (As in Danny Cooksey, the Salute Your Shorts guy.. I had a very brief yet very intense obsession with him) isn't going to meet me much less fuck me. I've always said a girl can dream, can't she? But that's dumb. I've been dreaming forever! Nick (as in Nick Stahl), other random guy and random guy are much too cute and cool to ever like me. Axl, Sebastian (Bach), Danny, Christian Slater are too old, famous, and stuck on themselves to ever like me. I've missed part of my childhood in stupid obsessions, and all I got out of it was hate, heartache, and I guess pain. It's meaningless and stupid. Sure I want Danny in my bed, but do you think famous 17 year olds have dreams about ugly prepubesant adolescents?

And that ends diary theater for today. I will perhaps be back with more tomorrow. I know you're looking forward to it!