My favorite Disney princess was Cinderella

I have been going through some of my old notebooks and binders. When I was in high school I very carefully went through everything and meticulously organized it, saving everything. I had saved just about every letter I received from the time I first really started having pen pals, in third grade. I saved all of my stories, everything I wrote, notes from friends, pictures my little sister drew for me. Now I'm trying to get rid of it.

It feels a little like betraying my 10-year-old self, as I throw away letters I kept for years. But I think it will be okay to get rid of them. I just finished copying into the computer the first chapter to an American Girl-esque story that I had written. It's heart-rending! The first, and only, chapter I wrote is about Amanda's family moving to San Diego and her tearful goodbye from her best friend Lexy. They "hug as if they would never let go" and talk of writing and visiting. At the end Lexy waves until the car is out of sight and then runs home to burst out crying.

And that's the end of the story. I was always drawn to the meloncholy; don't know why. I wanted to be Cinderella, the poor orphan whom everybody overlooks. Maybe she'll find her prince, but the point is that she's so pitiful. I feel a little incredulous at my childhood self. Why would I be drawn to a story like that? Why would I write about the wrenching goodbye of childhood friends? It wasn't my personal experience. It was a romantic (in the literary sense) vision for me, conjuring up a so-sweet longing inside.

Mostly it's interesting to remember things, especially some of my personal thoughts from high school. I notice things that I still deal with, such as trouble falling asleep at night, difficulty understanding my friendships, and too much pride in my school work.

Another thing that I remember, reading through my life, is that I never felt like a child the way that I sometimes think about children today. I never thought, at 10 years old, or 15, that I was acting like a kid or needed to grow up. My problems were fully real to me, and I felt fully alive. I don't know if that makes sense. I guess I remember that I always felt like I was right at the tip of my existence, like the head of a comet, with the tail of my days and years continually stretching out behind me. Now I find that I need to rediscover that childlike joy and ability to be fully present where I was.