Changing for the Better

I haven’t written a story in ages. I’ve been wanting to write as I do have ideas and such in a journal, but I just don’t have the motivation like I used to anymore. I don’t even bother getting on many of my devices or talk to friends unless need be.

Why is this you may ask? Well, I’ve been sort of on a soul search trying to discover myself. I wonder so much on some reasons on why I hang out with the people I do even when they don’t even call my by my own name but offensive ones, why I choose to stay inside my “opportunistic” room when all I do is the same thing everyday, why I won’t take any risks no matter how mild or dangerous the actions are, and why I act differently in front of my parents compared to others. So many questions and yet so much to be answered.

Well, to answer the questions, I’ve finally come to conclusion with some. One great part about change is when you throw the trash that’s been affecting you most. For example, I’ve finally graduated and switched schools so I won’t have to see the disastrous people who’ve ruined my self esteem. Not only that, but soon enough my sister and I will be moving out of our parents’ house. We’ve both agreed that the environment we’ve been trapped in isn’t one to get the best mental health. My sister’s also been trying to get me out of the house more to get me more social and make new friends. Feels nice to have my life planned out in a positive way. Finally, the path I’ve been looking for has revealed itself shining a new light into my life. 

I’ve been working on myself too. I’ve found time to start working out once again and work on other projects I’ve been meaning to like learning a new instrument. Didn’t think learning the ukulele would be so hard. Though, I am having to go through a couple new changes to my look myself. Now, I’ve got glasses and I’m going to donate my hair soon. Still don’t know how much it’s going to be or if I could’ve asked for a monocle since it’s only my one eye. I’m excited to finally look grown up soon and designing my own style for once and for all.

I should start my next story about my discovering life, but I don’t think someone would be interested in listening to my life story. Instead, I’ve chosen to rummage in my old papers and such. Looking back at my journal entries from back a few years ago, I’ve really noticed how much I’ve mentally changed myself for the better. Turns out I was a lot worse back then than I am now. I honestly think it’s interesting how you can see how you’ve progressed or regressed as your life has continued on. Little me had a much bigger imagination than now and an overdramatic attitude towards almost everything, but I don’t blame her. If I could comfort her throughout those years, I would, but without the past she’s created, I’d never be as strong as I am now. 

Skimming through the journals, I’ve noticed many qualities and memories that I’ve forgotten about. Some thoughts I’ve had were very, well, exquisite I’ll say. I’m definitely one quirky person. One thing I’ll always like about diaries and journals is being able to see your true self. Looking at them, I realize how fake I am to myself and to others. Seeing the positivity or pain that comes out only onto a page really shows your own true colors. If only I could say the same in front of a mirror.

I’ve even found my poetry journal. What I love most about my poetry journal is how when I feel emotionless, I can read what’s inside and conceive the feelings I’ve had at those points. Personally, my favorite is one called “Little Puppet”. My anger towards someone has come out in words describing that person. I never realized how much of a psychopath I am until reading some of the poems. Many of them are unprepared works, but even by the one liners I’ve written, it gives me an idea on how I felt at a time and what was going on. I would try and publish them, but none of them have been finished and I don’t think I’ll be able to finish a scenario’s feeling without re-enacting it. Guess that’s something to write down on my bucket list: finish a poem.

Once again, no inspiration sparks my interest in there. I thought to myself what would be the best way to get the gears in my head running again? That’s when it hit me: my dream journal. I’m always curious about the meaning of my dreams so I keep a journal in case I ever get them analyzed. For some reason, dreams are just so fascinating to me. They bring out your true fears, true intentions, answers to questions you’d never think would need answers. As I look through, I see my most recent one that was a recurring nightmare at least for me.  That dream is like the movie Happy Death Day for me except no one dies and it’s only my one true fear. Whenever I have that dream, it’s with people I look up to the most and I’m not sure why. No no, it wouldn’t be worth it. Who would be interested in hearing a story about a recurring dream with one of the most stupid and rare fears of all time?

Reading about it actually helped me remember a story I started back when I was younger. I remember having the dream and having the tendency to write it down for some reason. It was the first dream I ever wrote about before. A world where no other country could ever have any intelligence of another. The only thing bringing the countries together was a festival my friend and I would sneak into. Once we got in, the both of us would split up having our own purposes for showing up. For me, it was a concert that had a music performer once after another. Though, I got found out by the cops and hid inside a tent. In the tent were performers I looked up to very much and wished to see perform. Though we weren’t allowed to have any contact with any other country, I’ve got my own backstory  that would reveal all. Will I get turned in by the police? Will I ever be able to find my friend? What’s to come next after all of this? 

Honestly, it’s a very childish sounding story to me, but since it’s been started and I still remember the dream vividly, I choose to continue it. I haven’t written in a while and finishing a draft might help me out. It’ll also help me cross off the finish a draft part off my bucket list. Maybe this will be a new era for me. If I can keep up writing at least something once or twice a week I can make it up to everyday and I’ll be lucky enough to write more than once a day or during the daytime as well. So far my inspiration only lasts at a certain time and, with my luck, it’s when I’m most tired. Right now, it seems like things in all shapes, ways, and forms are going to change for the better for me.