My Voice

Sometimes I go back and re-read my blogs. Not in a creepy way. I love that I have this. I have this blog. This archive of memories. Not just memories, but written in a way that I understand. In my voice. I have a voice. My 7th grade english teacher was the first decent english teacher I'd had in my life. Rewind. She was the best english teacher I've had. Mrs. Bond taught us how to write and would tell us that we needed to develop our voice. I thought that the concept was funny. How do you develop a voice?

I know now. Have you noticed old people's voices always sound the best? They are so rich. Frequently raspy. It's like your voice ages with you. it's not like that, it is that. Your voice ages with you. It changes as you change. It changes with weight fluctuation. It changes with age & puberty. It changes with emotion can i just take a moment to describe to you one of my least favorite things. The way that my voice changes when I'm about to cry. because I could hold it in. I'm physically capable of holding back tears, unless I have to talk. And then cry. Then I can't. It sucks. your voice completely gives you away and now the person you are talking to knows you are going to cry which pushes you right over that ledge into tears. not the point. You develop a voice.

My 7th grade teacher told us you will develop a voice in your writing. It's true. My voice has developed. It's not the same though. I shouldn't expect it to remain the same. It changes. My writing changes with time and age and emotion.

Today I read some blogs from August of this year. I wrote unaware of what this year had in store for me. I'm thankful for what's happened since august. It's been a rollercoaster... as i'm sure you know. bunk to gunk. (bunk = bad + funk & gunk = good + funk) i don't wish things had been different. Even if i say otherwise sometimes.