ANOTHER rant, but about a younger Liz

Fourth post for the night, oh dear, there is some MAJOR procrastination going on here! I promise I wasn't planning on writing anything more, but I just had to, because I'll probably forget exactly what I'm feeling right now.

So, I have this secret other blog that I made purely to write ONE post in. It was about a person in my past, and I remember thinking to myself at the time, "I'll write this today, so that one day I may look back at it and realize how stupid I was for feeling this way". I was really upset at the time, and I think I cried quite often in this period of time. I'm obviously not going to reveal the blog post, because it's just extremely personal, especially since there was nothing I wanted to hide from myself while writing it. But can I just say (and although I don't swear often, I think this occasion calls for a good cussing):

Fuck, FUCK LIZ. I honestly can't believe how unbelievably childish I was. In my defense, I was young(er) when I wrote it, but I just. You know what I was doing? I wrote questions, and knew the answers to each one, but I thought I was being honest in my questions and lying in my answers. I still do. The thing with writing is that it helps me organize my thoughts and understand myself better, but it doesn't help me change who I am, or get over things easier, or take anything away from me.

Have you ever heard that saying, "you should never regret anything in life, because at one point, it was exactly what you wanted" (or something like that). Well, you see, maybe it was exactly what you wanted then, but it sure as hell doesn't mean that it isn't something that I wouldn't take away from my life if I had the option to now. It's like telling a smoker with lung cancer to never regret that first inhale of a cigarette - because, you know dude, that's totally what you wanted then, so you should just accept that fact now and live with it? Argh

It's funny, how emotional you can feel while writing one thing, and read it later feeling completely detached to the post - like you're reading about someone else's life. Well, that's how I felt while I read the stupid post. It's probably how I'll feel if/when I decide to read through the countless emails I wrote to myself (as a means of keeping a journal) in the past.