ITT post stuff you wrote when you were younger.

Pre-College Topics High School Life
1

<p>KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS? let's find out. go through your old journals or w/e i'm sure we all have them let's do this COME ON ask your mommy or something i'm talking middle school and younger people let's see what we can put out</p>

<p>9 years old [sic]: </p>

<p>"I dont like it when Im sick. I dont like it when It's the last day of summer. When people hurt animals I dont like that. I also wont like it when the sun blows." </p>

<p>"I was surprised when I got a bird. I was also surprised when my bird died." </p>

<p>"My worst gift ever is the puzzul I got for My birthday. The pieces were relay small and there were soo many of them. One other really bad gift was a shirt that was to big for me to where. And stuff that was to har for me." </p>

<p>carry on</p>

2

<p>This is from 4th grade journal:</p>

<p>“I am so happy! I just beat my friend in ping pong using my secret backhand slice! My friend thinks I am weird because I am a righty but play with my left hand. I also got an A+ on my geography test! This is an awesome day!”</p>

3

<p>12-27-98 </p>

<p>Before The Party</p>

<p>Today is the Christmas party. Many people are coming. I hope no one hurts me by adoring me. My mother said “I have to do nothing but smile and look cute.” Boooring!! Well at least the food sounds good and I will probably enjoy myself other than my cheeks being pinched!! The party has not started yet but it will soon. After the party I will let you know how it turns out.</p>

<p>After The Party</p>

<p>It was great!!!</p>

4

<p>A couple years ago I read something I wrote in 2nd grade. The improper grammar made me want to cry.</p>

5

<p>I was a strange kid. And I think I was going through family problems or something.</p>

<p>

</p>

6

<p>

</p>

<p>Wow, I think I know you.</p>

7

<p>hm, did you formerly post on aol?</p>

8

<p>hahahah fizix2 i hate you. i was just reading some stuff i wrote when i was 12, and it was… umm… not like that. hahahaha. i was, like, obsessing over boys and hating myself. and talking about how psychopaths were gonna take over the world. D:</p>

9

<p>no, I was just ■■■■■■■■</p>

10

<p>Fizix you are awesome
edit: apparently when you post in all caps they uncapitalize it for you</p>

11

<p>Midway upon the journey of our life
I found myself within a forest dark,
For the straightforward pathway had been lost.</p>

<p>Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say
What was this forest savage, rough, and stern,
Which in the very thought renews the fear.</p>

<p>So bitter is it, death is little more;
But of the good to treat, which there I found,
Speak will I of the other things I saw there.</p>

<p>I cannot well repeat how there I entered,10
So full was I of slumber at the moment
In which I had abandoned the true way.</p>

<p>But after I had reached a mountain’s foot,
At that point where the valley terminated,
Which had with consternation pierced my heart,</p>

<p>Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders,
Vested already with that planet’s rays
Which leadeth others right by every road.</p>

<p>Then was the fear a little quieted
That in my heart’s lake had endured throughout20
The night, which I had passed so piteously.</p>

<p>And even as he, who, with distressful breath,
Forth issued from the sea upon the shore,
Turns to the water perilous and gazes;</p>

<p>So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward,
Turn itself back to re-behold the pass
Which never yet a living person left.</p>

<p>After my weary body I had rested,
The way resumed I on the desert slope,
So that the firm foot ever was the lower.30</p>

<p>And lo! almost where the ascent began,
A panther light and swift exceedingly,
Which with a spotted skin was covered o’er!</p>

<p>And never moved she from before my face,
Nay, rather did impede so much my way,
That many times I to return had turned.</p>

<p>The time was the beginning of the morning,
And up the sun was mounting with those stars
That with him were, what time the Love Divine</p>

<p>At first in motion set those beauteous things;40
So were to me occasion of good hope,
The variegated skin of that wild beast,</p>

<p>The hour of time, and the delicious season;
But not so much, that did not give me fear
A lion’s aspect which appeared to me.</p>

<p>He seemed as if against me he were coming
With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger,
So that it seemed the air was afraid of him;</p>

<p>And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings
Seemed to be laden in her meagreness,50
And many folk has caused to live forlorn!</p>

<p>She brought upon me so much heaviness,
With the affright that from her aspect came,
That I the hope relinquished of the height.</p>

<p>And as he is who willingly acquires,
And the time comes that causes him to lose,
Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent,</p>

<p>E’en such made me that beast withouten peace,
Which, coming on against me by degrees
Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent.60</p>

<p>While I was rushing downward to the lowland,
Before mine eyes did one present himself,
Who seemed from long-continued silence hoarse.</p>

<p>When I beheld him in the desert vast,
“Have pity on me,” unto him I cried,
“Whiche’er thou art, or shade or real man!”</p>

<p>He answered me: "Not man; man once I was,
And both my parents were of Lombardy,
And Mantuans by country both of them.</p>

<p>‘Sub Julio’ was I born, though it was late,70
And lived at Rome under the good Augustus,
During the time of false and lying gods.</p>

<p>A poet was I, and I sang that just
Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy,
After that Ilion the superb was burned.</p>

<p>But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance?
Why climb’st thou not the Mount Delectable,
Which is the source and cause of every joy?"</p>

<p>"Now, art thou that Virgilius and that fountain
Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech?"80
I made response to him with bashful forehead.</p>

<p>"O, of the other poets honour and light,
Avail me the long study and great love
That have impelled me to explore thy volume!</p>

<p>Thou art my master, and my author thou,
Thou art alone the one from whom I took
The beautiful style that has done honour to me.</p>

<p>Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;
Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,
For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble."90</p>

<p>“Thee it behoves to take another road,”
Responded he, when he beheld me weeping,
"If from this savage place thou wouldst escape;</p>

<p>Because this beast, at which thou criest out,
Suffers not any one to pass her way,
But so doth harass him, that she destroys him;</p>

<p>And has a nature so malign and ruthless,
That never doth she glut her greedy will,
And after food is hungrier than before.</p>

<p>Many the animals with whom she weds,100
And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound
Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain.</p>

<p>He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,
But upon wisdom, and on love and virtue;
'Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be;</p>

<p>Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,
On whose account the maid Camilla died,
Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;</p>

<p>Through every city shall he hunt her down,
Until he shall have driven her back to Hell,110
There from whence envy first did let her loose.</p>

<p>Therefore I think and judge it for thy best
Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,
And lead thee hence through the eternal place,</p>

<p>Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,
Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,
Who cry out each one for the second death;</p>

<p>And thou shalt see those who contented are
Within the fire, because they hope to come,
Whene’er it may be, to the blessed people;120</p>

<p>To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,
A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;
With her at my departure I will leave thee;</p>

<p>Because that Emperor, who reigns above,
In that I was rebellious to his law,
Wills that through me none come into his city.</p>

<p>He governs everywhere, and there he reigns;
There is his city and his lofty throne;
O happy he whom thereto he elects!"</p>

<p>And I to him: "Poet, I thee entreat,130
By that same God whom thou didst never know,
So that I may escape this woe and worse,</p>

<p>Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said,
That I may see the portal of Saint Peter,
And those thou makest so disconsolate."</p>

<p>Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.</p>

<p>I was 11</p>

12

<p>This was a few years ago, when I thought I could write a novel.</p>

<p>“Attention, my fellow Americans. This is your leader speaking. This morning I would like to discuss an event that many of you have attached preemptive and imprudent significance to – the rise of Oliver Underwood as a supposedly prophetic revolutionary in the eyes of the masses. I believe that the reason for your delusions that Mr. Underwood will be, in fact, your savior, is that you yourselves are not satisfied with your current style of life. You believe that you are slaves to highly structured and preprepared lives, bred to shamble through life as just one of the obedient, destitute masses. You believe that you have had no unique experiences, no exciting involvements, and no worthwhile relationships. You believe that you are not, as Mr. Underwood and his peons so like to announce, a complete individual. </p>

<p>But I would like to ask you, my fellow Americans: what does Mr. Underwood mean by ‘complete individual’? He means someone who answers to no one, someone who acts independently of the pressures placed on him by society and government, someone who cares for no one but himself. Mr. Underwood’s ‘complete individual’ is a rogue, a villain, a pot-banging, juvenile anarchist. The ‘complete individual’ is a spoiled brat of a child, one who has not yet accepted the fact that he is merely another link in the great chain of society. He is an outcast of the modern world, a decrepit and lonely wanderer.</p>

<p>You see, my fellow Americans, this society is not one based on the accomplishments and failures of individuals! We are all inextricably bound together – a great chain of citizens holding up the modern world through productivity. Yes, most links of the chain are similar – you and your neighbor in the office may very well be almost identical in terms of habit and schedule. But if you think beyond yourself, and look at the great chain from far away, as the American people almost always did before Mr. Underwood began implanting destructive visions of individual grandeur into their minds, you see a grand, unique structure, without which the entire world would fall apart.</p>

<p>I ask you, what is so terrible about your lives that prompts you to accept radical revolutionary ideals? You have a home, I have made sure of that. You have food, I have made sure of that. You have inexpensive and accessible entertainment, I have made sure of that. You once had utter and complete patriotism for your country and your leader, the great country that gives you everything that allows you to live a safe, healthy, and enjoyable life. Why do you wish to abandon all of this? I assure you, Mr. Underwood’s world promises nothing of the sort. In his convoluted vision of the future, there will be no aid or instruction from a government. You will all be left on your own, obligated to fulfill newer and much harsher expectations. You will no longer have a job, as the provider of most jobs, the United States government, will no longer exist. You will no longer have security, as there will be no government police force watching the streets at night. You will no longer have guaranteed food, medical care, or entertainment. Mr. Underwood desires to turn America into a wasteland.</p>

<p>Now, Mr. Underwood, I would like to address you directly. </p>

<p>Why do you continue to fight for an ideal that you do not believe in yourself? Before you started waving that gun of yours in the United States government’s face, you were a reasonable, normal man. You had a job, a house, security, along with a host of other benefits guaranteed by the government. But then, you threw it all away.</p>

<p>Who was it that convinced you to do so? Was it your dear Miss Fairweather, our little rebel? Mr. Bishop, was it? Or, rather, his addiction to misery? Or was it the whore? Not that it truly matters.</p>

<p>Mr. Underwood, you are a tragic man. In your transition from a child to an adult, the phase where you are meant to be forged into one of the links of the great chain, you allow yourself to be forged by the miscreants and outcasts you decided to associate with. You, Mr. Underwood, are not even the ‘complete individual’ you fight to protect – you are a drone of your higher-ups, even in your little ‘revolution.’ You think that you are fighting to bring about an age where each individual is his own master, but you are merely a tool of the continuum of power. Governments will rise, from each revolution, that mirror exactly those that existed beforehand. There will never be any government that, in your torturous mind, will respect the idea that you should be the exclusive controller of your own life. That idea, as you know, deep in your own soul, is outdated and broken. Look at the societies that have allowed that – none of them have ever amounted to anything. Do you know why? Because they have no chain, no collective mass. Each individual is their own link – their metal is twisted, they are bent out of shape, they are discolored, rusted, or dented. They will never fit together to become a functional society. You are fighting, Mr. Underwood, for the destruction of civilization.</p>

<p>I hope, my fellow Americans, that this has been a productive conversation. I leave it in your hands to decide the future of the world.”</p>

<p>The Root was a dismal bar on the intersection of 14th and Valley. It was an old brick building wearing a conservative gown of graffiti, with outdated signs and advertisements covering all available window space. It was situated on the first floor an old, closed down motel aptly named “14th Street Motel.” The 14th Street Motel was where the kindly bartender took up residence, when he was sober enough to leave the bar without knocking himself out with a wall. He knew his limitations, and this was one of them.</p>

<p>The bartender was a bedraggled young man of about twenty-two who had just recently graduated from the nearby university with degrees in ichthyology and philosophy. In the job placement session that occurred a week after graduation, he was matched with bar tending, and an old friend of his offered him a job at the Root. So he moved from his apartment into the bar, noting that the only real benefit of the job was that he didn’t have to pay rent.</p>

<p>He stood about six-two, with long and tangled leather-colored hair, pale skin, and rather large round glasses. His face was somewhat thin and mousy, though mostly hidden by the collar of his coat and the scattered curls of his hair. He would, in the eyes of many women, be considered handsome if he washed and cut his hair, wore normal clothing, and stopped exuding melancholy and depression through all his pores. His name was Oliver Underwood.</p>

13

<p>^ dude strong writing skillz</p>

14

<p>From third grade or something…</p>

<p>“6/10/01. Tomorrow, Timothy McVeigh will die. Timothy is a bad guy that bomb the Okla. City Hall. Over 168 people died on that day. I really feel sorry for him because he really know that he did it wrong, so he pray for the victims. Tomorrow, he will die as will. I’m very sorry for him.”</p>

15

<p>in first grade i wrote a pretty cool story about a wizard that, marked at birth, went on to fight and kill the man/monster that killed his parents. my first grade teacher was Ms. Rowling. i hated her.</p>

16

<p>4-30-2004</p>

<p>“I’m having easy cheese and crackers for dessert. Life is good.”</p>

17

<p>

</p>

<p>So awful. I’m also somewhat perplexed by the Star Wars allusion.</p>

18

<p>

</p>

<p>what me?</p>

<p>thanks</p>

19

<p>Fixiz’s post reminds me of Peter Wiggin from Ender’s Game. ;D</p>

<p>I don’t keep any of my old papers, and the only writing samples from that bygone era of my early childhood I’ve left are some random, uninspired forum posts and PMs, and IM chat logs. Not exactly my best stuff ;D</p>

<p>A year back or so I found this wonderful little appeal for independence I wrote back in the late nineties, wherein I attempted to sound sophisticated in making a case for additional bedtime privileges or something of that sort, but I’ve no clue where it is now.</p>

20

<p>You all make me jealouse</p>