The Forgotten Blog

We’re only human. We forget things. But one thing we don’t want happening is people forgetting about us. Just a forgotten toy lost deep under old sweatshirts and yearbooks. Smelling stale and chewed up from moths that have reached the individual threads, unraveling them. And when we’re found again, it feels so so bittersweet. And then we’re put neatly back in our box to be forgotten again.

Sunday, September 30th, 2012 6:00pm “It’s Time” – Imagine Dragons 

Today I went to Boise with my Mom and brother and sister. I had the best day. I went to the mall and bought Tom’s Botas. They were $90! They will be perfect for Fall and Winter! Last weekend Kara came over and Sunday I went to Church with the Ogaard’s.

That’s right! I went inside a Mormon church, how crazy is that?

Monday I sprained my ankle in practice so I was hopping around all week like a bunny without it’s lucky foot. I missed two games! Yesterday was an away game. I played, but my ankle hurt afterward. After the mall today we ate and went to see “Paranorman”, a Tim Burton film. It was really good! I don’t school Thursday or Friday 🙂 ❤

I’ve started a blog. 🙂 I want to vent about things and have anonymous people understand and share advice.

When I read this I freaked out. I’m here writing one, and I was 14 years old and I already had a blog? So I did some research on the popular blog programs of 2012. Blogger was a big one so I went to Blogger.com and up popped my old blog! It must’ve recognized my Google email address. It sucks ass but here it is:

I literally cringed reading it. I said Fudge instead of Fuck online. Like, Alysa, there’s no Profanity Police online!

I hate when Johnathan would talk about Aerial Vineyard. “This hot girl”. He told me last night (after babysitting and earning $30) that he was getting me jealous because he was jealous of me moving on. Kinda stupid if you ask me.

Yassss girl. He was stupid. And from what I’ve heard from friends on the east coast, he’s still a fucktard. So here I’m a little proud of my strength that I’ve shown despite being alone. It’s good to do this.

Maybe we do this to ourselves when we look back on our memories, our journals. We forget ourselves. Maybe we spend so much time “finding ourselves” when really it’s up in a dusty attic waiting to be re-looked at. It’s really been there all along.