I found my old journal.
I didn't write in it a lot,
Only when I could think to do it.
Only when it felt necessary.
So I wrote about a lot of the same things.
Heartbreak mostly.
A 9th grader so terribly in love
Again.
Everything is remarkably depressing
At that age.
Or so my journal would have you believe.
Here are some excerpts I found noteworthy
November 19th, 2014.
"I just hope she finally decides my head is no safe resting place for any kind of love."
December 16th, 2014.
"I feel like death, and all I want is for her to hold my dead body until I feel like breathing again."
Heavy,
I know.
Believe me,
I know.
I'd be dishonest if I didn't mention
That there are a lot more of those.
And I'd be dishonest if I didn't mention
That I'm best friends with that girl now.
I laughed when I read these.
The pain read so real
Yet I don't remember what it feels like
To miss her like that.
Then I found another passage
From a year ago.
A riper wound.
September 23rd, 2016. (The day I found out she didn't love me, and might be dating my older, douchier cousin)
"I cried for the first time in awhile, but it doesn't feel as good as I remember."
And then I realize
I've been watching the same Ferris wheel
Go around
My whole life,
Just with different people
Playing the same role.
And it all feels the same.
If love was for sale
I'd empty my pockets.
I still pick the scab.
I'm still the same kid.