How it Works

My Cause-and-Effect Essay

2017 is here and I'm still not feeling the jolly....

To be honest, I'm not the type of person who celebrates New Years. To me, it's just another day, another year. It doesn't feel different.

. . .

Well, that sounded depressing. But hey, I've never lied about anything I've written here so why start now?

Anyways.

It just dawned to me that it has been over a year and a half since I started this. . .whatever this is.

It doesn't feel like a year had passed, more like a couple of months. In my opinion, Time is a continuous, infinite line so it doesn't really matter how long it was or how long it felt like.

Though, a lot of shit happened this "year."

I'm not gonna ramble about how life and the hardships I faced had taught me to be stronger and blah blah blah.

I'm not into that bullshit.

My life is a fucking cause-and-effect essay: shit happens because it just does, then I write about it here so I could overthink my entire life. And then I accept the fact that I don't really have a life then I go on to my semi-merry way.

Back to the main point,

Growing up as a person is something that I have to do. Life definitely won't make things easier for me just because I "couldn't grow up."

People say that I'm too young to talk about life the way that I do, because I'm still in high school and haven't experienced life enough.

Here's the thing, though. People don't know what I've been through.

I've experienced things in 10 years a 50 year old might not have experienced in their lifetime. Good and bad.

But no, please. Judge me based on little to no information you have about me. I'm sure that would make you feel better about yourself.

Anyways,

This book-diary-journal thing has probably helped me in so many ways.

For example, I wrote an entry once when I had this psychology assignment a year and a half ago about sharing my emotions and talking in front of an audience. It was a big thing for me cuz I always had anxiety about that sort of shit.

Now a year later, I don't get as nervous anymore. My heart doesn't bash itself against my ribcage as it used to; yeah I get the jitters ever so often, but it's not as bad now.

Another example: one of the first entries I wrote here was about my anger management problems. I had difficulties controlling my rage, I get kind of aggressive.

But now I'm cool as a cucumber.

. . . .
. . . .

Ok that sounded lame, but you got my point.

If you read some of the previous entries, you can clearly see the ups and downs that I've been through.

This thing captures every single detail about who I am and how I think. That's the main idea behind the journal-diary-book thing.

It's weird reading past entries then reading recent ones, it's as though I'm witnessing the evolution of my quirky self.

The whole "new year, new me." is utter feces.

It took me ten years to be this new "me."

In conclusion, I have learned that documenting my life in shitty entries helps me grow up to a really weird specimen with a worrisome state of mind. But that's ok cuz I like doing this, and I like being me.

Read ya later!