Memoirs of an Insane Freshman Girl

Chapter 15: The VERY End ~I PROMISE~

Chapter 15: The VERY End~I Promise~

As I am currently halfway through sophomore year in high school, I thought it would be an interesting touch to add a little insight to the end of this story.  Of course, I can’t actually answer the exact unanswered questions some of you may have in your head, but I can answer the obvious ones that all of you must be thinking.  First of all, yes, most of this really did happen to me.  The sad thing is that thinking about freshmen year now is like a blur.  Also, thinking back reminds me of so much more that happened that I have unfortunately left out of this little novel.  Although some of you may see this as an endless ramble of events by a gregarious girl desperate for attention, it is much more than that.  You see, one could merely read the story and enjoy the language or characters as any typical reader enjoys any fictional story.  But those who choose to read deeper between the lines will find the hidden meaning, the girl dying to stop hiding behind closed doors and facades.  This is not about the language or word choice because if it was, I would have edited and reedited this piece until it was completely unrecognizable as the same work of writing.  Instead, I chose to leave the undesirable sentences string together in their seemingly unedited flow to maintain the emotions and reality of the piece.  By far, I don’t think this is some of the best writing I have ever written, but I must say that it is some of the truest, most honest writing I have ever written.  In order to get anything accomplished in life, you have to take risks, and that’s exactly what I did.  I risked exposing my entire emotional life for all the world to see for the sake of learning something about myself on the off-chance it would turn into something worth looking back on and worth being proud of.  While this story seems to say a lot about Chris, it says even more about me which turned into even more of a risk.  You see, I have friends, and a lot of people know me, but they don’t really know me.  No one really does.  Of course, no one can know me either by a mere sixty pages of obsessing over a guy who moved away, but one can only hope that they can walk away with a greater sense of understanding of who I really am.  At the beginning of this story, I wrote that I had a story to tell:  my own.  That’s exactly what I did as my 9th grade personality seeped through the pages and allowed each word onto each page.  This story was never about a teenage boy I liked and our unfortunate break-up.  No, all along, this story was really about only one person:  me.