A Realization - I was a fucking awesome kid.

I amaze myself.

I've been reading my first blog for the past 20 minutes or so. I was an absolutely incredible writer. I was so full of honesty and beauty. I had the most beautiful mind I've ever seen in anybody. I envy my 13-year-old self. I envy him. He was a boy with so much love in his heart, and so much to say. He was a boy who wanted to share himself with the world.

And he could write so well. So much better than I can. My writing is far too stream-of-thought. It's not as readable as his. His could be made into a book. It's so prosaic.

Is it because his mind had not yet been destroyed by pot? Have I really done this to myself?

I was a poetic and prosaic genius. I was so honest. I didn't care what people thought of my writing, I just wrote. That's why it turned out so good.

I want to meet this young man. I want to shake hands with him. I want him to remind me what it's like to be young again. I miss him. And I want to tell him what I have learned.

No, no, no, no, no. Scratch that. Telling him what I've learned would give him a false idea of how life should be. He figured it out for himself, which is the best way to realize things. I am so full of envy right now. I was on the verge of crying as I read it. I was so clever, and so funny. My sense of humor was so much better than it is now. How I managed to survive among the vast amounts of Rappahannockins for so long boggles my mind.

If I could go back and live in that mindset for a day, I would.

Really, though. I need to write this damn paper.