of wooly mammoths and green llamas.

more ramblings.

So i was bored and i started skimming through posts in my old blog. It’s really weird to read about the past, and a part of me isn’t even sure that it’s really my past. Like reading about a life of someone whom i don’t even know. All those memories, which are supposedly mine, are starting to be really hazy to me. 

I used to type with so much euphoria, all the WHEEEEES and YAYYYYYYYS and ten thousand smiley faces.. oh boy, was i young then. I’m starting to even doubt whether all that energy and enthusiasm and positivity was even real. Afterall, i was aware of an audience.

Those were very different times. It’s weird, because it’s barely a year or two ago. Or even months. And it’s really damn weird because i wrote about every single shit happening in my life. Like i went to thisthisthisplace to eat, i had constipation, i love icecream and all that kinda nonsense. Reading back made me realise that nobody honestly cares about all these little, insignificant things. And it was all quite immature and just.. damn weird.

In all honesty, i’ve always thought i was quite normal. A little weird, but still reasonably normal. But times like this i really question my sanity, and whether i’m even real. Like you know, sometimes you’re just not sure if you’re the person you think you are, or who you are is a reflection of what you think others perceive you as (omg learnt this in class but i forgot what it’s called), or whether you act differently with different people, or you’re just one, big, confusing mess.

I just wanna take one deep breath, and take time to know myself. Figure myself out. But then again, isn’t it the whole point of life? To know who you are? It isn’t something that can be figured out in one day. Because we’re all changing everyday.

Sometimes i also think i ramble on too much and have too many of these kinda nonsensical thoughts that really ends up in nothing much.