Remember that pink flowery diary you decided to start writing in during your early teens? Just took mine out and started reading as far back as to my 2008 year self. And it was a delightful treat. I just turned 20. I’m an adult. I can feel it. And it’s by looking back and trying to decrypt my young mentality that I discovered a clear break.

Now it is obvious because time and distance have enabled me to notice how much I’ve evolved. When I was younger, I would choose to write about such random, irrelevant things yet that I judged pertinent. I would like to categorize my friends, complain about small issues like my sister telling people that I’m selling my comic strips, etc. At some point I started going to parties and I would try and describe every single detail and boy that touched my back (omg). Now I would never write about these kind of things. My thoughts are much more abstract, vast and ambitious. If I were to write again, it would most likely be aspirations, job issues, idk boring adult stuff. I would still like to talk about micro-events and society, like friends, BOYS (like, duh, this is a diary), and things that stand out much more from the ordinary life.

But that’s what I liked about reading from my younger self. I dramatized such normal, plain, useless things that would happen in my life into journal-worthy markings. I entered the mind of a child – the most relevant child, myself, once again. And that is why I will promise myself to keep on writing here and there. Who knows how my uni student thoughts will look in the eyes of my 35 year old self?


Bag: Rag&Bone
Top: Joseph Ribkoff
Trousers: Zara
Heels: Aldo

Photos: Dahye







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