Wednesday, April 16, 2008

On Being an awful sixteen year old girl

When I was sixteen I had an online journal which I stumbled upon last night. Holy hell...I was terrible...

I was very upset about still being a virgin:

September 01, 2001 - 7:12 p.m.

I am really sick of people telling me about all I'm missing out on. So what if I'm a virgin and still in high-school? I may not know what I'm missing out on, but I do know I'm sick of hearing about it. SO QUIT IT. ALL OF YOU.

August 29, 2001 - 3:18 p.m.
[...] I am still a virgin [...]

August 16, 2001 - 6:28 p.m.
Two of my friends lost their virginities in my bed last night and I'm pissed because I wanted to lose mine before theirs

July 25, 2001 - 3:16 p.m
I spoke to my friend who has just lost her virginity and is now living with her boyfriend.

AND I wrote awful awful poetry. Here is an excerpt from an untitled poem I wrote in April of 2001:

I hate them.

They smile to my face and stab my back.

They think that I don't know.

They've made me an outcast,

They shut me out.


Fucking conformists,

Fucking mainstream.

I hate it.

I hate it all.

Oh yes, sixteen year old Sarah! Let the angst out! Let it run free!

Also, there was this gem:

June 4, 2001 - 11:11 p.m.

Forgotten By S.

Each leaf represents a memory,

Each sip a dream.

You live it, remember it, forget it.

We forget so quickly.

Will they? Will he?

Dreams happen and are gone in a flash, in a swallow.

His lips kiss the glass, and I wonder if he is dreaming of me,

Swallowing me,

drinking me down and remembering everything, every taste, every smell.

But how quickly will those swallows be forgotten?

How quickly will the dreams be gone?

How quickly will he forget my taste?

Like tea leaves I blow away, along with the memories of sips and swallows, along with the dreams for our future.


Christ on a cracker. Reading through this thing is giving me seizures. All sixteen year old girls are this terrible, right?

RIIGHT? (Just agree with me, kay?)

(This will also be known as the entry that made Seth break up with me. In 2001 he was twenty six and most definitely past the deflowering/awful poetry stage (do boys even go through an awful poetry stage?). I was sixteen. This fact makes him nauseous, which is understandable...Hi Honey!) ♦DiggIt!Add to del.icio.usAdd to Technorati Faves