Glass petals

Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhoods completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair.

You never understand how destructive blogs can be, till a loved one starts putting everything they can never tell you, into one. It freaking hurts to read blogs, sometimes.

School starts, for me, tomorrow. It feels almost like two years ago, when we were all plunging ourselves into what we knew nothing, or little of. Yet this time, the fairytale haze no longer surrounds the dream. I see it - all its harsh lines and sterile lights.

My brains have gone rusty. My pens have mostly dried up. My papers have yellowed. My bag has faded. Almost everything from the past two years has been removed from the house. My furniture is gone, I have a new set. My books, notes, material, have all vanished. All that's left, sits in a box, hidden in a corner, and I never notice it.

I hope this year goes well. Cause if it doesn't, that's the end of trying.

This year, I have a gold bag, no school uniform, and ... purple red orange brown and black hair. But most importantly, I have an amazing support system that girls all around the world are using. It runs free of electricity, and comes with a lifetime warranty. It also takes me on holidays. So perhaps this year will be different.

After all, my entries are beginning to read like Sweet Valley synopses.

AnRu reminisced at 3:45:00 PM.