I keep a journal. I know it’s very old-fashioned; I can practically feel all of you readers sneering at me. But my paternal grandmother encouraged me to start one when I was 6 years old, and well, that motive carried me on throughout my life up until now. We live in an age of digital supremacy. Everything that occurs is posted on Facebook or Instagram with the cutest little epigram as a caption. But that is missing a crucial element of life, don’t you think? Not all things can be captured to its full extent in a simple snapshot, or a witty phrase. Words, sentences, and entries are what can really speak to the soul.

Looking back and flipping through all my past journals, I can see myself grow. I can see the physical changes: how my writing has elongated and matured during the years, how my punctuation has become more accurate and less spontaneous. I can also see the mental changes: how deeply my writing goes, how I now can truly emulate what it is on my brain out onto the paper. And on the breezy cool evening of yesterday, I encountered again a past entry and began to reminisce.

May 22, 2014
“If you take a close look at Cherry’s profile picture on Facebook, you’ll want to cry. And I’m not even joking here. It’s such a disappointing photo: she has dyed red hair, wears a pleated skirt, and carries a designer backpack. I don’t know where my best friend has gone. Who is this stranger so focused on appearance? Where’s the girl that made me who I am? Where’s the girl that I wrote about in so many English assignments, telling the story of how she changed my life? Where is the girl who shared with me her love of reading?

I had known she changed when directly after I transferred schools, I texted her about a great new series of books that I had found and she replied, “Yeah, I don’t really have time to read anymore lol.” And there I thought, but you used to make time. You used to give up your time. But now you’re willing to let society push you over.

And when I last saw her in December, she looked at my Snapchat account and remarked with a condescending glance, “Oh, wow, you don’t have a lot of friends, do you? Here, look how many I have.” At first I had thought this stupid and unnecessary comment was because she pities me. Because I had to transfer schools. But then I realized, that’s not right. Then I realized, she said that because she judges someone based on the number of friends on your Snapchat. That look I will never forget, because it really hurt, to know that my best friend, the girl I grew up with, who knows the deepest darkest s*** about me, has changed to become this stranger.

We used to poke fun at people who dressed like that and acted like that. We used to treasure our twin tails of raven black hair, we were annoyed by those pleated-skirt-wearing girls, and prided ourselves on being the only girls our age who didn’t wear skirts or dresses on a school day basis.

Maybe you have found your own friends, Cherry. Maybe you want to start fresh, like I did. But you didn’t stay you. You let those friends change you. And that’s the part I can’t bear, because you as yourself was the sweetest, kindest, most unique person I knew. And now, all you are is another one of those teenage girls trying way too hard to be like the cool kids.”

In this entry, I think my message was clear. Stay true to yourself, and don’t let others change who you are. Those quirks that others make fun of you for, those little faults that make you feel inferior, are what make you you. In remembering the past, I now how to live in the present, and how to plan for the future. I’m here to tell you, time all ties together in the end, but you have to retain yourself: your likes, your dislikes, and your person.