and I might die if he doesn’t reciprocate or if he does but then he leaves me.
I’ve done my share of deriding this situation in YA books. That I wouldn’t want my daughters to emulate that as a role model.
Re-reading my journals looking for whatever thoughts I put to paper following 9/11 made me absolutely cringe.
Every single entry is a laundry list of the random things that went on in relation to boys. Me reading too much into situations, me trying to contrive ways of being noticed by the latest crush, etcetera.
And I realized something.
I was that YA heroine whose life revolved around a boy.
And that scared me. There are times my journal entries haven’t changed that much since those days. Recent times.
But then there are the gems of journal entries where I’m actually looking outside myself.
I don’t know where those are but surely they must exist, right? I can’t still be stuck as a teenager in an adult’s body?
Maybe in some ways I do still have that sixteen year old inside me. But I know I’ve changed and grown. For one thing I no longer diagram movements of the boys I’m crushing on. (Seriously, I diagrammed. No lie.) For another, my journal entries aren’t nearly as epic as they used to be. (I’ve had journal entries that went on for pages and pages.)
Re-reading my journals shows that in some ways I have changed and grown yet in some I haven’t really. I do still use my journal to (over)analyze (to death) when I’m worried/wondering if a boy likes me. But then I also really use my journal to let out all my frustrations and worries and such. Reading through some of them is like reading a roadmap to major decisions.
So, deride the trope as I may have in the past, I guess I need to be a bit more understanding. Because I’m more Bella Swan than I realized, care to admit, or am comfortable with.
What about you?