These, unfortunately, are the more interesting thoughts.
There was a time when I was completely uninhibited with my writing. These were my early writing days when I wrote instead of paid attention in class and never got caught. I was good at it, too. I wrote and continued to make top grades, and nobody was the wiser. At least, nobody said anything to me about it. After all, it was middle school, the point in education when students are at such varied levels that some teachers teach on the lower end instead of on the higher end. This, I thought, left me free to do as I wished.
One day in eighth grade, my history teacher reprimanded me for writing in class. This was the same teacher who decided I was bored in class because I read aloud through a particularly difficult passage without stumbling over a single word. A few days later I asked her why she did it. She told me that others had asked her why I could get away with writing in class while others couldn't get away with other actions such as reading. In order to be fair, I couldn't get away with writing in class. [I actually got away with reading Gone with the Wind in that class, but that's another story.] It didn't work. I continued to write.
The next year, Dr. Nbook [my paper journal] was stolen on two separate occasions. For someone who clings to her journal like a little kid clings to his security blanket, this was a traumatic experience. A "friend" stole it the first time, thinking it was just another notebook; after all, I was [and still am] so organized, with a separate notebook for each subject. Wasn't this notebook just a notebook? she probably thought. Personally, I thought the title on the cover would have given it away, but she didn't seem fazed by it in the least.
The second time was that spring in my drama class. I was more of a loner in that class than usual, and I had just returned from the restroom to see that Dr. Nbook was missing from my neatly stacked pile of books. I looked again, just to make sure I hadn't hidden it while I was gone. I hadn't. So I started to peer in the nooks and crannies of the room, and someone finally asked me what I was looking for. I told them. One or two people got up to help, but everyone else stayed put. Finally, after various threats from my [admittedly amazing] drama teacher, the notebook was returned.
Once I thought that these experiences were the reason I'm more careful about what I put on paper, but now I see that's not true. I think long and hard before I write things down. As a result, I have so many repressed thoughts that I don't want to think just because I don't want to admit that I thought them. It's like insulting someone: you can't fully take it back. I find myself thinking, and I think of something I never thought of before, something I never would ordinarily think, and I won't stop myself until the thought has sunk in. Then I think, "So this is what I think? Wow," and I'll let that thought have its full impact. Then I can't take it back. Even if I do change my mind, my past thought is still there.
For some things, that's quite scary.
That's why I'm adding #31 to my edited Things To Do list I posted a few days ago: Become uninhibited in my writing. I have so many secrets, and some of them don't need to be secrets. It's time to become free.