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It's been a while since my last written doodle! This is a series that I started a long, long time ago and I think there are only two other written doodles uploaded in my Gaia journal (one from Jan 2014 and another from June 2014). In the first written doodle, I explain what my idea for this series is. You can check it out if you want (hopefully I hyperlinked it correctly--it's been a while since I've taken advantage of BB code compatibility). If you won't read the explanation, just know that Written Doodles is my series of freestyle writings with an intro of sorts and reflection of sorts.

The following piece has been typed up based on a hardcopy version I found while cleaning my room. Its title on the loose-leaf paper is "Written Doodle 4? 3?" so I'm pretty sure I meant to upload it here. I'm guessing it was written during the second semester of my grade eleven year, which was shortly after I mostly recovered from one of my more major lapses into depression.




There's something quite peculiar about running away. You know exactly why, but not what. You begin to wonder if leaving is really worth it. And is it? Is there even a way to arrive at a definitive answer? Yes, the only way to find out is to do it. You must go to know. But are you willing to leave everything, everyone, behind? Knowing that, without bidding a proper farewell, you might not be where you are right now ever again? You want to be free, to explore. Is your desire passionate enough to force itself into action? Imagine that it was.

I solemnly apologize for not saying goodbye. However, I am even more sorry that I did not do this before. Finally, I am doing something for my own benefit. Perhaps that is an admission of being selfish, but who will judge me when I'm all alone? Alternatively, who will comfort me when the obvious concept of isolation begins to mercilessly gnaw at what little sanity I have left?

They suspect me.




Apparently my past wanted me to reflect on this, but I'm not sure how adequate my connotative understanding is right now. I'll instead just tell you a bit and hope that it makes sense, haha.

The first paragraph is written in second person and it is addressing the reader who, at the time, would have been just me. I was essentially writing to myself, but to a fictional self. I was writing to a Lucia who was running away.

I did contemplate running away before and I may or may not have already uploaded an entry that discusses that memory. Long story short, I was crying at the front door as I realized I couldn't actually bring myself to leave for whatever reasons. I'm not sure if it a love for my family that was hidden deep down or if it was a fear for a future that I would spend alone. I wonder if I wrote about it before because I definitely do not recall my motive anymore.

But maybe I did remember as much when I wrote this written doodle. The questions in the first paragraph actually sound like something I would be thinking while I was standing at the front door during the memory in which I contemplated running away. The second paragraph is me responding to the first paragraph... in a sense. In the first paragraph, I am writing to a fictional Lucia that is running away, and in the second paragraph, I become that fictional Lucia.

Oh, that's interesting. Hm... As I reread the second paragraph to gain insight, my brain is making connections between the sentences and my experiences. Maybe I'll talk about those experiences?

"I am even more sorry that I did not do this before." This reminds me of when I dropped a course in grade ten in order to reattempt it over summer for a higher mark. The course was CALM online and it consisted of three modules. My course supervisor didn't let me submit the second module because it wasn't in by the deadline (which I thought was merely a suggestion based on a recommended timeline because, well, it was an online course... and for the record, when I retook CALM, all the posted deadlines were just suggestions). I was really happy when I did drop it, but by that time, I had already finished the course work and it was all for nought. So, really, my only regret was that I didn't drop the course earlier. I could've saved time and effort, tsk tsk.

"Finally, I am doing something for my own benefit." This reminds me of when I dyed the tips of my hair! Y'see, I've been meaning to dye the tips white for the looooongest time and when I finally got parental consent to do so, my hair dresser refused to even attempt it. I was aghast. I'm convinced it's because she sees her daughter in me and she wouldn't allow her daughter to damage her hair to the extent that I was fully willing to. In the end, months later, while I was in a neighbouring city, I got my hair dyed purpley and to this day, I haven't returned to the first hair dresser. No one belittles my wishes and stays on familiar terms.

"Perhaps that is an admission of being selfish, but who will judge me when I'm all alone?" Now, this is rather unnerving for me. See, months and months after I wrote this entry, No'C broke up with me and my depression became painfully apparent to me. One of the symptoms I continually noticed was my tendency to identify my selfishness and I think I have admitted to be selfish several upon several times since. It's eerie that in my written doodle, I ask who will judge my selfishness when I'm alone? And, well, I will! I judged myself constantly, and it's just weird that I would ask such a question before my relapse in depression. It's just peculiar.

"They suspect me." Okay, I'll be completely honest here. I have no idea what this could mean. It's definitely written in my writing, but it's written in a blue pen while the rest was written in pencil. Poetically speaking, this could allude to some idea of permanence, what with the transition from pencil to pen... but I really don't know why I wrote it. When I read it, though, a memory is triggered of me writing it in Chemistry class while there was a substitute teacher. My brain can't seem to retrieve the full memory. Hm... Welp, if the writer doesn't get it, the readers can have fun deciding whatever they want. Bwahp.

I think that's sufficient reflection. Lyrics time! Comment the title and artist of the song from which these lyrics come from and a reward shall be delivered accordingly. The chorus of this song is actually so catchy, ahhhh.

Paint your smile on your lips
Blood red nails on your fingertips
A school boy's dream, you act so shy
Your very first kiss was your first kiss goodbye

Alrighty, time for this potato to go to sleeparoo. G'night, fellow soul! Parting is such a sweet sorrow. yum_puddi