If you ever even partially took interest in what I was doing in the later years of highschool, it was this, basically. Just marble notebooks and notebooks of sketching and writing. I brought them to class and pretended to take notes, but I would just write poems that didn't make sense at all and drew imaginary and real things. I drew people that I absolutely hated and wrote about how much I hated them and how they hated me. Now I don't hate them anymore, but I still read them and laugh about it and realize I was just a stupid kid that was completely shy and judgmental, my reason for being so lonely with no friends or social life. I still carry around the marble notebooks do the same thing today - just without the hate part, but yes I can admit to the fact that I am still a bit judgmental, just not as much as I was before. Sorry for this weird post, WORLD, if you are even reading THIS
-topanga
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