Beyond this Moment

So today is my 100th post. It's sort of a landmark. I mean i written in a jounral since i was in the third grade. Of course my first journal entries describe my steamy crush on a gym teacher, liking Joan Osbourne, how our class lost Field day, my trip to the Bronx Zoo, my best friends, contained 20 pictures of the spice girls, and my aspirations to dye my hair red. It's seems like such a long time since those first entries. I am such a different person since then.

This is my 2nd online journal, the first one i hardly wrote in, deleting it after the whole roommate drama, because of the 1 out of like 15 entries that contained her name she flipped her lid. And now i am here, writing extremely personal things, making a lot of spelling and gramatical errors and bearing my soul.

I had apprehension with starting this blog. And a few entries into it(early July) i was even going to stop writing. But i remember when i was younger my mom made me write my feelings down, to get it all out, so it didn't consume me. So part of what i know is that writing is a tool, a theraputic tool for me that has continued all these years.

Last year i had to keep a journal for English and freewrite in it everyday. At the end of the semester we turned it in, and he nearly had to tear the thing out of my hand, because it was like seeing my baby being taken right before my eyes. My soul and aspirations and fears, and embarassing details about my life and myself were in a book. A book that was me.

I now notice that this journal has become my book. My soul is in everyword that i write. Sometimes i am embarassed by my frankness, because i notice how extremely vulnerable i have become. And the vulnerability is a little scary...because it is absolutely beautiful.

So i dedicate this 100th entry to all of you who read this thing.

I know sometimes i complain, and can be extremely self loathing. That my grammar is horrible(my english teacher would kill me), and that i have a tendency for rambling.

But just as i notice those things in this journal, i notice them about my life. That sometimes i'm just plain awkward,

that i don't always have the right words,

that i'm clumsy,

and curse like no one else's business,

that i'm shy,

and excited easily by the small things,

that i eat french toast and drink cocoa for dinner.

That i'm a loner yet sometimes lost in the crowd,

that I crush on extremely too many boys,

and still play Oregon trail.

Somehow these things are becoming more beautiful to me, because they are me. And i want to thank you all for contributing to the continual journey i am on to finally accepting all of me.

I want to just write down all the names of the people on this thing who has just been there through the rough times. But i figure you already know that i appreciate you all so much. and I mean all of you. Those who comment and those you don't. Those who read on the down time or those who are just glancing at the writings of some crazy girl. There's no amount of thanks that i can say that will ever convey how much the support has meant to me.

So what does this mean?

That you are totally stuck with me. Rantings and all. This is only the prologue to my unfinished story.

-Beckett A. Hughes-

P.S if anyone saw the episode of Grey's Anatomy last night it was eerily freaky because it related so much to my entry about Romeo and Juliet. They need to offfer me a job on the writing staff, i mean the guys in Hollywood and little ol' me, apparently have the same concepts. =)