I'm thinking of posting some new poems soon, and a few from middle school that I just found in an old notebook. It's scary how back then I could put into words emotions I didn't understand until now. The poems don't feel like something I said, but something being said to me. It's like an accidental time capsule; a letter mistakingly written to my future self. It's almost eery in a sense. I'll label which poems are the ones from middle school, because honestly, I think it's hard to tell. I described darkness I didn't think I could feel, or maybe I felt darkness I couldn't describe. Now that I feel it, see it, understand it, and sadly live it, I can describe it, and I realize I was beyond my years back then, maybe even beyond myself. It makes me stop and think, maybe I've always been like this, and I've always known, it just took everyone else this long to see it. Whatever I discovered in that old, barely used notebook, it was mine, and even if I didn't understand entirely when I first thought it, I thought that way for a reason. I still do. Maybe I'll figure that reason out one day, maybe never, but knowing that it's not new helps. If I'm a freak, it wasn't a sudden change, or even a gradual one. I have always been the way I am.
