So I'm on a role for entries today. It's a rare moment, so enjoy it while I have something interesting to say. [Don't miss my huuuuuge entry about Josh, go back one entry!]
Now, here is me acting vulnerable. Since 7th grade, I began writing in a notebook about all the guys I thought I would want to be with for a very long time. My biggest regret and heartache is the Green-Eyed Monster from last year. I was so infatuated with him that I had a notebook just for him. With all the torments he put me through, I had lyrics, poems, and endless amounts of reminders in that notebook of why I adored him. Even though "us" and the hope of "us" is over, I could never bring myself to get rid of it.
Today after school, it was snowing again. I took my notebook, matches, and my headphones out to the cornfield behind my house. I walked a distance to one of the places we had walked back to see ((this was over a year ago)). There, I burned my notebook and watched the blackening pages shrivel on the virgin white snow. I just stood there staring, trying to understand how I felt. All I felt was something inside of me closing. There was no sorrow or regret or anger... but as if a leaking vein had been tied off and the blood could finally clog. It was if I had burned the Green-Eyed Monster there in that snow and not felt any grief. I'm almost certain there is something amazingly symbolic in my actions with the snow and the fire; however, I'm not interested in the mechanics of symbolism right now.
The tears I shed were caused by the smoke... I swear it.
