A picture from 2016

Depressingly, it turns out that all crap they say about grieving for the little girl you were is true. I hate it when cliches turn out to just be the truth. It’s boring.

I’ve always hated looking at old pictures of myself. Mostly, it feels as though I’m looking at a spoiled brat, or a clueless idiot. But now, I don’t know.

Looking at this 14-year old kid with her skinny arms and notblondebutnotbrown hair and fucked up teeth. And she really was a kid, then. I suppose some people aren’t anymore at that age. I thought I wasn't.

Every picture feels like a lie because I’m smiling in it. If somebody were to leaf through these, they’d just see everything being normal.

I still don’t like looking at it. Nothing was the way it should have been. Everything was normal.