Oh, the Early Work...

So lately, I've been going through some of my boxes.  Yep the ones left in my parent's attic for eight years.  And you'll never believe what I found.  Who remembered I seriously have been writing my entire life...?  Uh, not me.  I found a huge box full of journals and journals of stuff.  Diaries and stories and strange artwork.  Some from school...but a lot from I'm-a-nerdsville. 

And here is the sampling *cringe*:

1st grade:  

(This isn't so bad because it's still in the ugly-cute realm)

Apparently my teacher really liked us to make books, she typed them up for us and laminated them.  I wowed the first grade with books entitled: 

The Many Ghosts

 I Definitely Say Monsters Should Not Wear Clothes

I Like My Friends

I Like Christmas Trees

 The Ponies 

On the Night of the Blizzard

I especially liked this one, because no where in the story is there a blizzard--here is the full text:

Henry wanted to explore the mountains. He got out of his bed and made his bed. Henry got red paint and a bunch of stuff.  He got yellow paper.  He got a lot.  He told his mom that he was exploring. He walked outside.  He walked far away.  He made so many discoveries.  He explored lots of things.  He ate his lunch.  He found a lot of things.  He found a bear cave.  His mom got worried about him.  He sent out searchers.  They found his trail.  Henry found his trail.  It lead them right to the door.  

I know brilliant, right?

Another gem I found was a story I wrote in eighth grade from a boy's perspective...of course it was from the perspective of my current obsession...I mean crush.  And it was all about how amazing he thought I was...yeah that was special.  Of course I changed the names to protect the innocent.

Here's some awesome dialogue:

"Okay.  I feel stupid.  Anyway, I asked her if she would go with me to the dance before school was out because we were both in the office and the secretaries were all running around in different rooms.  She said...'No I don't think that would be possible.' It just so happened that someone forgot to turn off the intercom and the whole school heard." I said.

"I must have been in the bathroom getting paper towels for Bobbie's coke," Jennifer said.

And then in high school I moved on to the angsty poetry: 

Will I ever see you again?

I know it sounds lame,

but can we still be friends?   

A kiss on the cheek

with a tear in my eye

You're here less than a week

now I have to say goodbye.

Poetry has never been my strong suit. My high school self just got really offended that I posted that...

but I'm not backing down.  EAT THAT HIGH SCHOOL SELF AND ALL YOUR UNREQUITED LOVE!