Last week, in a bout of nostalgia, a friend and I read through an old journal of mine from 2005. It took me three tries to actually type out that year just now; I kept writing 2015 instead. 2005 doesn't even sound like a real year, let alone a real year that I lived through and kept record of. That was 12 years ago. It doesn't even seem possible that I could have been alive for long enough to have memories from twelve years ago, to be honest. Like, I'm definitely only fourteen, so this is complete nonsense. Anyway, time is fake. But also, my journal was hilarious.

Reading about my daily life as a 10-year-old person was truly astonishing, especially since I feel like I have never really changed at all. Some things, of course, were the same: I was still just as anxious (about my friendships and family members, though, instead of the ever-present sense of existential dread that looms behind me constantly), I was still just as dramatic (I exaggerated things and even edited my entries to heighten the emotion. For what ultimate purpose, I do not know), and I was still just as ridiculous (the worst day of my life was apparently November 13, 2005, when my mom promised me that my best friend would be at the mall but she wasn't. Luckily, though, the day was saved when my family and I went to see "Chicken Little" in theaters that night).

There were a lot of different things about 10-year-old me that I forgot, too. She was super passionate, which I envy her for. In the summer of 2005, I went to my first ever musical theater camp. It took me a bit to make friends, but once I did, it was like the only thing I talked about (in my journal and real life, probably). I even wrote an entire entry about how much I loved it and wanted to be a part of that world for the rest of my life. Now, thinking back, I really can't remember the last time I said that about anything. I don't remember anything firing me up like that, at least since high school. And that is, like, the saddest thing ever, isn't it?

I mean, sure, everything feels new and exciting when you're younger, but still, I miss feeling so much love and excitement for the things I do that it made me transcribe entire songs from a terrible musical I was in just because I wanted to show it off in a journal that no one else would ever read (it took up an entire page, and I had to switch pens halfway through because the ink in the purple one ran out).

Even though it's kind of tragic, looking back at the person I was and wondering where she went, I am super inspired by her. Even though she did a lot of things wrong (like telling her ex-best friend who she like-liked in the middle of quiet reading time), she had a lot of awesome qualities that I miss, too. Like, this girl never got stage fright, made up words just to make her friends laugh, collected terrible jokes just for her own amusement, and somehow always found something to be amazed by. Honestly, she sounds pretty great and I wanna be more like her. I wanna be that passionate, that optimistic. I wanna be silly for good reasons and find something great about every situation.

It figures that this bout of nostalgia would come right at the end of this year, piling even more desire to reminisce on what was already there naturally, but I'm kind of glad it did. I'm trying to figure out ways to kick 2017's ass before it comes after mine, and I'm thankful to 10-year-old me for giving me some ideas on how to do that.