What an Awful Friend

I like telling stories. Like a lot. I like telling stories because you can tell them if you’re in any mood. So I tell stories all the time. I know my friends probably hate it. It must be so annoying to be always listening to Kirsten’s incessant voice talking about how she got lost on the city bus and had to walk back to Treasure Mountain (True story and yes, I referred to myself in the third person.) But I like to tell stories because it helps me laugh at myself and I like making people smile. And sometimes nobody laughs, which is embarrassing, but hey you keep trying. 

Courtesy of clairelasecretaire.wordpress.com

I think this blog has been like my own personal, yet public journal. I’ve been able to tell stories and talk about random things, like how I want to own a naked cat someday. I’ve learned about myself, but mostly just expressed myself. 

To understand my transformation throughout this year, we have to look back to my locker at the beginning of this year. At the beginning of this year my locker was clean, fresh, and relatively organized. It was very innocent. I had a folder or binder for every class, and enough pens to last me an eternity. When they tell you that you can be prepared for high school, it’s total crap. By the first week my pens were missing and I felt like a homeless person, because of how often I begged people for a pen. “Spare a pen for a unorganized train wreck, would ya sir?” Gradually, my locker became worse and worse. Piles of paper built up inside my locker. Unknown liquids spilled and stained my locker. The door became vandalized with drawings of dogs, courtesy of Aysia and “I love JB” courtesy of River. 

Yesterday, after a very random and unfortunate chain of events I ended up at school with quite a bit of free time. So I decided to get a bit of the cleaning of my locker over with. As I began to clean it out I realized exactly how much stuff had occurred so quickly this year. I found three silver spoons, papers from every class, a small yellow bowl, six unused highlighters, four binders, three folders, and a mug. 

Then I looked at the empty and organized locker, and thought to myself I made it. It may have been hard and it may have been messy but I made it through my first year of high school. Where my blog played in that, I’m not exactly sure. I think my blog has shaped me into the writer I am today and has sparked my creativity. It’s also caused much suffering. I’ve lost hours of sleep because of writers block. 

Overall, I don’t think my blog drastically changed me. But I do think it’s helped me. It’s given me a new place to share my thoughts, even if no one is reading. Although it’s cheesy, I like to think of my blog as a friend I made this year. So cheers to my friend, I hope to never see you again fourteen days from now!