Question of the day.

What would twelve-year-old you never believe about you?

My answer:

Hmmm… I don’t think there’s anything all that unbelievable about my life. As a twelve-year-old, I had a lot of ideas and imaginings as for how it would look like, I had some potential plans but was never fully convinced that I’d actually want to do any of these things for real, was only considering that I might want to do so, for example to be a psychologist or a writer. Then on the other hand I’ve written here a few times about that weird dream or whatever it was that I once had when falling asleep about myself being an adult, standing in a huge kitchen full of children and not knowing what I’m supposed to do, either with myself or with them or anything really, which pictures how I generally felt about adulthood, as something I was scared of, didn’t really have a clue about or what I was going to do then, and it didn’t change by the time I was 12. I don’t think anything in my current life would surprise twelve-year-old me so much that I wouldn’t be able to believe it. Well, perhaps I could be surprised at the fact that I didn’t pass my finals, since people, especially my Mum, were always telling me that it wouldn’t be a problem for me to get to a university, and still, despite not doing that, I can live, and even have some sort of a job, even if it’s only thanks to my Dad. And my linguistic interests weren’t quite as clear yet when I was 12, I did know a bit of Swedish and I did enjoy English as a language, not as a school subject, but because at that time I was unable to continue my Swedish learning because of being at the boarding school and wasn’t able to resume it until leaving it, it was really difficult for me and if I wasn’t able to learn Swedish anymore, I preferred to forget about it as much as possible because thinking about it or even hearing it somewhere was really aggravating. So maybe twelve-year-old me would be surprised to know that I was eventually able to go back to my Swedish and can now use it, better or worse, and am also learning another language – Welsh – and planning to learn lots more. I guess it could be a little mind-blowing for me because, like I said, I didn’t have such aspirations back then at all. Oh yeah, and the fact that I blog in English, I think I’d be really surprised to know that, especially that at the age of 12 I didn’t blog yet at all and had very little idea about what a blog is, I only started blogging a year later.

You? πŸ™‚


16 thoughts on “Question of the day.”

  1. 12 year old me would absolutely not believe some of the harsher metal music I listen to now. I used to hate aggressive screaming metal but I grew into it😜

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Twelve-year-old Meg would never believe that I’ve written 432,000 words worth of stories about twelve-year-olds! She’d be like, no way, get out. Because when I was that age, I loved to read, but I thought that writing such great novels was next to impossible, and that only a few people could do it. (In the advent of self-publishing, that has obviously been disproven.) As such, though, I have to thank twelve-year-old Meg for always writing in her diary with perfect grammar and spelling, etc. She was practicing for me! For whatever reason, it was important to her to write “clean”, and so there you go!

    Twelve-year-old Meg would also never believe that I taught myself how to build furniture, because she was in denial about being interested in it. (She was told to excel academically, and that manual tasks were for other people.) [Eyeroll.]

    And the schizophrenic stuff… now, that would creep her out. [Shudders.]

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Twelve-year-old me would be appalled that I’ve accepted that physical activities isn’t for me. She would’ve just accepted epilepsy into her life and started her denial of having to drop swimming and gymnastics, which she loved.

    Liked by 2 people

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