Eleven Years

Yesterday was our eleven year anniversary of meeting. I found my way back to here as I often do and thought it was so beautiful reading over the innocent ramblings of a woman I used to know. While you're creating moments, you never truly see yourself until the moment becomes a memory and you look back at the life you've lived. So strange how that works. 

I found myself longing to know the version of myself I am today and wanted to come back to write about her. She's less poetic. She's a little more tough. She doesn't daydream as much or reminisce on her little moments. I think when I was younger I had such a difficult time liking myself which is so ironic because I love the version of me I once was. I look back at her so fondly and love the way she loved and fought and adventured and explored. She'd be amazed by the today's person. The same girl that fell in love with a camera and was afraid of the day ending because then she'd have to go to sleep and would possibly miss out on more moments is still the frenzied adult I am today. I wonder if coming back here and writing again can connect me better with my softness. Humans are not soft. We can't be. I think it's so beautiful how soft I was able to be for so long. 

Soft curves.