June 5, 2017
Writing has always been a time capsule for me. When your pen touches the page and the ink molecules form a complex with the paper in that instant, you are capturing a moment in time. You are pouring out your thoughts onto the paper like a smith pours molten iron into a cast. Whatever you have written in that moment is permanent, for all intents and purposes. Your voice, emotion, attitude, and opinion(s) at that time are seared into the lines. I have a love-hate relationship with looking back on my work. I love going back in time and re-experiencing myself one, two, or three years ago. But at the same time I hate it. In hindsight, a lot of what I wrote as a naive 14, 15, or 16 year old seems childish, arrogant, and obvious. These words will probably be looked down upon with that same comical superiority and disgust a few years from now. They will seem narrow-minded and immature. The cycle will continue like this without end. Whether we like it or not, we are constantly learning, getting wiser, and growing as humans and writers. And for me, writing lets me chronicle my progress and create images of my mind through time. Enjoy this snapshot.