Deja vu?

I just want to say how grateful I am to be able to even want to say anything. Because for me especially, it is a gift. When I can't say words, even in writing, that would be bad.


Ever get a deja vu feeling? Is that hyphenated..? Deja-vu... there. Probably the latter.
Anyway, yeah, I would assume that everyone would get the feeling at some parts in their life. Today was one for me, I remembered one of my dreams; just flashed through my head. It's slightly upsetting, when I get flashes of images. It's almost as hard as remembering what you dreamt of the night before -- if you don't remember.
Most of the memory I have is like that.


Hmm... you know, I feel like the more I try to heal, the more wounds I see.
My friend argued the fact that I had a blog -- I just said that it's good to be able to go back posts and see how much I've grown, lessened, if I were to become a hypocrite and such, blogs are good for that reason.
It's like that. Because sometimes (maybe all the time) I can't be satisfied with what people say. Since they can lie to my face without me even noticing it. Not that it matters. Maybe it's for my own self-ego.

I think I like to jump topics, no?

Back to the healing process -- it scares me. Maybe what I'm trying to say is, I'm not sure how I want to see myself grown up. Because I'm passed the legal age, but I still can't run away from the house without the police tracking me down and bringing me back. That scares me, too. Not the police part, but the legal part.

How DO anyone want to grow up? Since we can't actually track EVERYTHING we do and make sure we turn out fine. Do we want to even turn out fine? I don't know if I wanted to or not. But I just feel it is scary. You know why? Because I'm my own biggest critic. Everyone is. Everything I do, I have to question myself; barely do I sit back and think about my own actions. Probably I should start doing that. Because when I see someone older than me acting in some sort of way, I fear of turning out that way. Not that I'm saying I'm criticising the person for how they are, I just want to be fine. You know.


Guess paranoia goes a long way.


One thing I love about literature? People can't judge you for the jumping topics, being unclear of what you are trying to say and just read and be like, "Don't know what she's talking about, but I just spent minutes reading nothing."

This has been a normal-deprived person. Thank you.