To me, it's crazy, how much I've grown. Reading my words is proof of that. All the times remember crying over douches, having regrets, desperately trying to understand the misunderstood, it makes me see how mature I've become, and all of the things I have been through. My words are raw and vulnerable, and sometimes they make me cringe as I go back to that split second of pain, but I still read it. I still relive those moments where I sought solace in my pen and paper, in the wordss that poured out of me uncontrollably, as I tried to understand my emotions, my thoughts,

my life.

And I can't help but smile. At reminiscing over the first time i fell in love, or my unnecessary rants, over all the stupid shit people have tried to pull.

It makes me wonder, what I'll think or feel nostalgic about as I get older.