Forgotten memories

You know those nights where you can’t fall asleep no matter how hard you try?

The past week I was with my cousin, and when we’re together sleep does not exist. We honestly just played Dishonored and Bioshock Infinite while watching some movies and eating lots of junk food. Heaven right?

I came back home last night and figured I’d try to sleep at normalish hours again.

I stayed up all night.

Usually, when I stay up all night it’s because I’m reading or watching some videos, shows, or movies. Last night it wasn’t like that. It was just thoughts. The strange thing is usually when I start thinking too long at night I think of things that stress me out.

It wasn’t like that. Sure I thought about school, money, my brother, and my dad, but I felt pretty calm. I didn’t get out of my bed, but it was like I was looking back at all these happy old memories. I didn’t get all sentimental and teary eyed like I thought I would, but rather relaxed.

I don’t know if this makes sense, but a few weeks ago those memories would really sting to think about. They were bittersweet. I’m glad I didn’t forget them though, because I can say with all honesty that I’ve forgotten bits of my parents divorce along with living with my father for some time only because I forced myself to block it out. I don’t know if that’s good or bad either. I’m sure if I thought long and hard about it I’d remember, but I’m happy not remembering, because I probably forced myself to block them out due to the pain it may have brought me.

At the same time, I think there will come a day where I will remember the memories I have locked up and I’ll be glad I have them. It’d be a shame to lose memories, because I believe they are all important in shaping who we are as people.


Old and new books

Yesterday my mom was going through some things when she found a handful of old books that belonged to me or my brother when we were younger.

I actually started laughing as I looked through some of them.

There were some random books from The Series of Unfortunate Events, an old copy of The Hobbit, Speak, and old copy of Life of Pi, The Outsiders, The Thief Lord, some folktales, a bunch of animal books, etc.

After she pulled them out she was tad upset, because it just proved her fact of how I have too many books. Once she left me sitting in the pile I picked up one of them and began reading, of course.

So far I’ve finished The Outsiders, which I never actually read before. Loved it. I also finished Speak, and the cool thing about that is I actually got to meet Laurie Halse Anderson at my school.

I think the reason it made me laugh is because it was like a little present to myself from myself, like when you find money in your pocket. Also, about a week ago I bought about seven books…

I’ll keep myself busy, I think.

It’s simple.

“You write too much.”

“Why do you have so many stories up?”

It’s so simple.

Um, hello. I like to write. I have so many stories online, because I want to hear what people think about them on a site I know people will appreciate it.

Seriously, I’ve written more for my stories in these last three weeks than I have in the past six months. I started two new stories and both are doing well, I’d say.

I like to write. Is that so hard to understand? It cracks me up when people look at me all weird when I say that.

Thousands of people write their stories online, and I’m just another person who does the same thing. It’s like my little safe haven.

Wise words from Fitzgerald

“Writers aren’t people exactly. Or, if they’re any good, they’re a whole lot of people trying so hard to be one person.” -F. Scott Fitzgerald

I don’t know why, but I absolutely love that quote.

The first time I read it the thought that came to my mind was “Holy crap. Someone gets it.”

I don’t think I’m the best writer or anything like that, but I write stories online and I have a fair amount of followers and favorites and views. Seriously though, the amount of times I’ve thought about how my character would deal with something loads better than I had is infinite. I sometimes tell myself to be more like my OCs even.

They may not actually exist in person, but they exist in my mind. There are situations where I will walk into a room mentally telling myself that my character can do, which means so can I. All of the characters I create are a branch of who I am as a person.

You’d learn a lot about me if you read my stories. Each character is like a fraction of who I am, or what to be, but hide from others. It’s scary though, trying to be one person.

Sometimes I want to do something, but I stop myself for the sake of it being something I wouldn’t do. One of my characters would do it though…

Does that make sense? I don’t really know. I just wanted to say I love this quote.