January 28, 2003.

[I found my first online diary today.  Reading over the archives makes me a little sad.  Things were so much easier then.  I think I’ll find the best ones and put them here.  So I don’t lose them.  I wrote this, while dreaming about becoming an author.]

i walk past you everyday. sometimes you look at me, sometimes you don’t. sometimes i know who you are, sometimes i don’t. when it’s cold, you wear jackets or hats or trendy gap scarves. you’re skinny, with tight jeans, and shirts with letters on them. you’re fat, rushing through the quad, eyes downward. you’re a freshman, walking with friends, laughing at something that happened last year at prom, pretending you don’t care who’s looking at you (because you’re cool now – you’re in college), but really very aware of the cute guys talking to small girls by huge wooden greek letters. you stopped momentarily to light your cigerette and blow smoke in my face. you’re playing hacky-sack in from of the english building, brushing your dreds out of your eyes. you have a messenger bag slung across your body – you wear your backpack on both shoulders. you’re hair’s in a messy ponytail, you’re wearing a baseball cap, you’re hair’s down. you’re talking on your cell phone.


as i sit and wait for class to start, i wonder why you’re wearing 3 inch heeled boots to walk around our hilly campus. aren’t you uncomfortable? don’t your feet hurt?

you’re wearing jeans, you’re wearing a skirt, you’re wearing khakis, cordoroys, shorts. you’re wearing glasses, you think they make you look smarter. you’re carrying a guitar case covered in stickers, you think it makes you look cool. you’re wearing aviator sunglasses, you think it makes you look hot (yeh…ok….it did).

you don’t go to college to learn (at least not primarily), you go for who you are – to find out, or to prove. you changed the spelling of your name to add “i’s” or “e’s” or “l’s” – you think it makes you original. you sit next to me in class – be it early british lit or biology for nonscience majors – and you take notes, or daydream and snap awake when everyone gets up to leave, you’ve got faint “x’s” on the back of your hands, or a paper bracelet on your wrist. it’s friday and your eyes are red and puffy, your hair’s in a ponytail, your t-shirt is rumpled.

you’re tall, you’re short, you’re fat, you’re thin. you think you’re different…..

but you’re beginning to look like everyone else.

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