"I HATE EVERYBODY. EVERYBODY HATES ME," reads my paperback diary circa second grade, all-caps rage scrawled in purple marker shouting my personal vendetta against the world. I'm positive that I am not who I was on that angry day in second grade, because I've decided that I would like to meet everyone before deciding that I hate anyone.
I came across my old diaries while packing today, so instead of boxing linens I sat in the middle of my messy room and revisited my former selves. It was weird; every time I scoffed at something ridiculous I'd written about a boy or my sister or whatever other crisis was at hand I felt I was betraying myself a little bit. It made me think about whether or not we are the people we were at earlier ages, and if we are in part, to what extent we were our current selves then. Does that make sense?
A question for you: what span of time does your "current self" encompass? Do you believe that you are the same person you were last year, last month, yesterday?
I've been trying to answer that for myself, and if I think about it enough, I'm never satisfied beyond a day, a moment if I'm overthinking. Which I am, at the moment.
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I was thinking about this today. My sister is going to be in high school this year, and I think that's weird because I think of high school as when you become a real person. Like I consider my high school self my current self. Maybe not freshman year but probably like sophomore or something.
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