A Trip Down Wattpad Lane

I want to cry. All for good reasons. I recently redownloaded an old writing app and started rereading my stories.

One, in particular, was a personal journal where I ranted and vented about all my problems. I talked about life and all the troubles I had transversing it.

I was only 15 or 16 when I began writing in this app, but I had gained a massive audience of about 1,000 readers. Sitting here now, I can see how crazy this is. People loved my writing. Little 15-year old me, who is now 21.

The stories are filled with all sorts of grammatical errors and it's funny to see that much hasn't changed. It has definitely gotten better, but still.

I don't know why I am writing this. Just reading my old writing made me laugh and cry. I was a really funny kid and the things I was going through are still relatable.

I was filled with so much uncertainty and sadness. But I somehow managed to convey those emotions into writing. Writing that so many connected with.

I have so many messages and comments from people telling me "they loved my openness", or that "they understood what I was going through". Only now am I appreciating these messages.

Only now do I miss these people.

I guess that's why I am crying as I write this.

I grew up with all these people. They read about my teenage years from 15 to 17 and got to see what was on my mind. That really just punches me in the heart and makes me want to bawl.

I just wanted to let you all know, that you should cherish moments like these and all the people around you. I wasn't able to tell all these people I appreciate them because of how hectic and unfortunate my early years were. And now they all disappeared from the platform.

I miss how carefree my writing was. I took a leap and just started writing what was on my mind and everyone loved it.

I guess that's all I wanted to say. Appreciate your readers, as cheesy as that sounds. Appreciate the comments and listen to what they say.

And I wanted to leave you all with a short piece from one of my "journal" entries. It will be unrevised and have tons of errors but here is a visit to 15 -year old me:

Introverts worry a lot. I worry a lot. Mostly about my future or something I said that could effect my future.

Ever heard of the butterfly effect? A very small change in initial conditions can create a significantly different outcome. That about sums it up.

I worry about my minor decisions. How they can change my whole life, just in a snap.

I had a bully in middle school. She was a real female dog. I entertained her by fighting right back with words. So, I made the decision that I was going to be nice. It was harder than I thought. Being nice to your enemies never is.

Anyway, I helped her on her work and she introduced me to an academic school which I now attend. From that day forward, she didn't pick on me. She was actually nice. Now, rewind, I wonder if I didn't choose to be nice. Would I attend the same school? Learned valuable life lessons? Write this book? Would I have given in to dark thoughts?

I actually thank this very helpful young lady.

You're probably rolling your eyes. Thinking this small factor couldn't possibly affected my life much but it did and it's something I think about everyday.

I worry about petty things but sure does everyone. It's amazing how many things people worry about.

In high school, my classmates worry about their relationships a lot and express what they feel is love.

They worry about 'Him' or 'Her' more than work and to me relationships in school are distractions. Sure, it's nice to be claimed by someone, exchange cheesy words and make out for a hot minute but in the end, how long does it last?

Most relationships in school last about 3 to 5 months too and if your lucky the whole year so why even worry about them? That's coming from me. A single teenager. Take notes, kids.

Pen and pad out? Okay, another thing kids my age shouldn't worry about or people in general is friendships that you know take too much effort to hold together. It's alright to let go. Theirs more out there and you'll meet them sooner or later whether it's because you shared the same hot seat on the bus home or you complimented their outfit. Again, coming from an introvert.

Looks. Everyone wants to look nice but who do you want to look good for? Family tells me, "I want to look good for myslef!" What if you were the last human on earth? Would you then? I have the same 7 shirts and 1 pair of jeans I wore all last year. Washer and dryer helped a lot and boom! I look nice to myself. It's not as much as clothes, the clothes or makeup only give you the confidence you already have.

Money. Money is a large issue these days. It's alright to worry about it but if you have money and you worry about getting more. That's greed.

Death. I am guilty of overthinking my death. Sometimes it's me old in bed. Other times it's by a werewolf, vampires, the murderous new kid on the neighborhood, or by a car when crossing the street. So much for look both ways, it sure doesn't help when I cross.

I also worry about not having enough time to do everything I want to do. There is so much to be done.

Missing out. I worry about missing out on everything even if it's across the country. I want to witness it. Lately, I've been worrying about my game system which has no internet service. I can only cry and whine wondering what games I'm missing.

In elementary school, my classmates threw parties and they would give me these evenlopes with a car saying the address, the time, and all the festivities happening. I hated it.

Everyone would be hyped about going while I'm pouting hating how I can't go because it's too far or how it's a school night.

I was the one kid who would say,

"Who cares about a stupid party! I got cake and ice cream at home!"

"But not a bouncy house!"

"Uh- huh!"

I have my bed. It's bouncy enough.

Honestly, to this day when someone would say they are going somewhere fun I'd get jealous. It doesn't even have to be fun. You could go to the dump and I'd be jealous. Wait, no, I wouldn't.

I even worry about my dog that was given to the police force. His name was biscuit and we found him scratching on our door. We still don't know what breed he was but he was a strange one. I wonder if he's doing well. Sniffing out all that cocaine and attacking all those bad guys.

I must have a million things I worry about. I'm not going to bore you with them.

What do you worry about?