So instead of reading La Camisa de Margarita or applying for scholarships I desperately need or washing the jeans that are in desperate need of re-shrinking, I got caught up in a friend of a friend's blog.
It was like a car crash, to be cliche, to be blunt. I couldn't tear my eyes from the screen, but it was awful. Really, really awful. I found myself really judging this girl's maturity.
And then I remembered that I had a xanga 4 years ago. I hunted it down and read some of it; it's like this other blogger girl tried her best to emulate my blogs of middle school. Here I was thinking that I was so mature, only to realize that I am so vain.
She'll mature. If I matured, she will, too. She will face her pains and heartaches that are nothing she could even imagine in her childlike mind now. It will hurt, but she will grow. It won't be easy, but the easy things in life are hardly ever worth it. In four years she will look back and realize that her relationships with boys are now so much more than 13-14-year old her ever thought it could be. Her God is bigger her love is deeper. That two year period of this or the few months she spent on that will be inconsequentially small. Two years? That's nothing, life moves on. I have hope that she will grow, that she will hurt, that she will learn.
And I realize that in my mind I'm a lot more mature than I am in reality.
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