sunday secrets

when i was younger, i had the same haircut as half the boys in my class. i spent my senior kindergarten life protecting my little brother from the world of bullying, hygiene, and friend-making. now, he's judgmental, oblivious to mold, and he talks to random people on the bus.

when i was angry with my parents, i would make a poster for my door, telling them by their first name that they could not come in, finished off with a million exclamation marks just to show how serious i was. when i was mad at my brother or sister, i would pore salt on their beds and stick their treasured stuffed animals against the kitchen garbage bin.

there's something about getting ready for bed at night, and then not being able to fall asleep because you've reminded yourself about being eight years old. i suppose when i look at little kids, and get annoyed at the supposedly stupid things they say, i should probably be criticizing myself more. there's something incredibly pathetic about teenagers.

and here i am, as much of a teenager as i'll ever be. hoping to shave my head before i graduate university, hoping to be nicer to people without trying so hard, hoping to stop being so unbelievably superficial about everything i don't understand.

i think i talked a little too much to deezed last night, but i woke up at noon, so i still had almost nine hours sleep, ... i guess i've just drowned myself in the horrible realization that i hate being such a jerk to my parents. stupid hormones.

'3' one more year til i'm not exactly a teenager anymore! but i just wish i was eight again.