This will be my very last journal entry.

I have had one of these things since sophomore year. It started off as something to do, something that came out of boredom. But here I am, a sophomore once again and it only seems fitting that I let this thing go. I have neglected this journal the past few months and I have outgrown it. My secrets and all my mixed up emotions are now let out in other ways. That scared and confused little fifteen year old is now gone, and while I'll never be a real grown up, I'm pretty fucking close.

And so this is goodbye, to the past four years and all the secrets, lies, tears, fears, freak-out, hook ups, broken hearts, the falling in love, the learning, the experiences, beautiful and ugly.

So many people have drifted in and out of my life during this time, and they have all made me who I am. Everything I could possibly say about the transformation of the last four years would just be cliche. And so I just want to end this by saying that I have never been happier, and while life will always be a series of twists and turns, ups and downs, I am not worried. I do not regret a single moment, a single action. I would take nothing back. I carry every feeling in my heart with me everyday.

And even though that little girl is gone, deep down she will always be there.

In a couple hours I'll be headed back to the city. I am determined to capture this year more than I did with last. I have hope that this year will be able to top the greatness of last year, and I know that as long as I keep doing what I do I'll be ok.

With only ten days left before I go back to the city lots of thing are on my mind. The summer flew by and while being home has been relaxing and fun, I need to get back to my life. Last summer, leaving for the first time was exciting, I was headed someplace where no one knew me and I could make a new life. This year is a bit different, and because of all the things I left behind I will have to pick up where I left off. Last year was not perfect by any means, but I don't know if I could have gotten more lucky. Upon moving to New York life suddenly started going my way, the city loved me and I loved it. But there was no shortage of drama or of unresolved issues and I am sure to be confronted with it all when I am back. For right now I will stay positive and keep an open mind, but I'm not holding my breath.

Everytime I think I get close to figuring it all out it does not seem to make any sense. Will I ever know exactly what I want? And how much longer will it take before I stop carrying other people's hearts around with me?

Nineteen is one awkward fucking age. As I'm upon my final moments as an eighteen year old its hard to think of everything this year has brought. Here I am in Maine again, the summer all in bloom around me, and ready to leave the nest and be away at school. Everything about this situation is the same as last year and yet everything has changed. I was so worried at 17 going on 18 that nothing could compare to the year I had previously had. Those fears have now gone away, and I hardly recognize that scared little girl. So much has happened this year, and as usual I would not take a single moment back. Everything is in its rightful place. And while nineteen may be an underwhelming, awkward birthday to celebrate- its another year of life, of experiences that will shape me forever and lead me down the road of life.

Sigh. I know I am really slacking here. And now I'm about to turn 19. I'm practically an old maid. Boo.

Today is the first day in a while not marked by angry clouds or the sound of splashing rain against the windowsills. It finally is summer, the sun is strong and everything outside looks wilted and hazy. I am missing someone, which has come to be a common theme during my summers. But I have a life waiting for me, and September can't come soon enough.

It seems as though it is just a fact of being a teenage girl that boys will always find a way to hurt or disappoint you.  After all this time, after all the amazing things that have happened the words or the silence of a boy is enough to bring me to tears.

I want you to stop being mean, and stop hurting my feelings because its not fair.

When I first started writing in one of these things I was 15. I had never kissed a boy, I had never been in love, and I had only been in high school for one year. Years later, looking back, my journals have mostly composed of the ups and downs of boys, friends, and my remaining years in high school and the transition into college and living on my own. It's hard for me to try and write like I used too because things seem different, like I've mentioned before. I've gotten lazy, and the novelty has worn off on many of my storied concerning the above topics. A few loyal friends remain, some new ones have come in, school is always school, and boys will never ever change.

I don't know, I always feel like I'm on the verge of actually saying something... but I guess not.
It's been raining for days, I'm tired and restless.

For the longest time I haven't been able to write anything down. This has been the case since I moved to New York. And now here I am, back in New England for the summer and the lack of written words, of pent up emotion, and of living life instead of reflecting on it has gotten to me. I have grown so much as a person since leaving, and while that's a very cliche thing to say there is no other was to put it. I was always a late bloomer and moving to New York was like bursting at the seams with vibrance and life. There are lots of stories to tell, lots of lessons that have been learned, and maybe with the quiet peacefulness of summer I'll be able to put a few of those stories down on paper or in this case type them. Either way, I guess I'm back, for now anyway.