Day Three...

This morning I found the diary I'd kept as a thirteen year old. I sat and read the whole thing in one sitting as it was bloody riveting! Not, sadly, because it was full of intrigue and mystery, or because it was brilliantly witty (it WASN'T) but because I couldn't really believe that the person in there had ever been me. It was surreal, all those long forgotten feelings came rushing to the surface to remind me that no matter how far you think you've come, every incarnation you've ever been is still buried somewhere deep inside. What a scary fact.
One of the (many) weird things it made me think of was just how grown up I thought I was at that age! The older I get the easier it is to forget that kids really don't stay innocent for very long at all. Practically the whole ruddy thing is about BOYS. Lots of them. And each one I am desperately and hopelessly in love with - for about a week. Then I move easily onto my next undying crush. I was tickled by how if my feelings for someone weren't reciprocated instantly I completely lost interest in them! Ha, so fickle. I never have been someone who wanted to be in anyone's gang who doesn't want to be in mine. Teflon-coated ego!
Another thing I was surprised at was just how shallow and vacuous I was. I realise that there aren't many young teenagers with hidden depths but, good god; I'm just a walking, talking hormone!
I also note that I seem to have been a bit mean. I'm ready to admit that I was many unpleasant things as a child, bossy, loud, opinionated, precocious, and a general little madam (most of which I still am) but I've also learned with time that I wasn't all bad... I'd also claim that I was loyal, fearless, fun, tough and charming. The one thing I believed I wasn't was MEAN. But it turns out that I really was a bit, as my embarrassing diary testifies.
A few years ago a girl walked up to me in a club and accused me of having made her life hell. I only vaguely recognised her and had to ask someone else for her name. I spent the following weeks absolutely mortified and checked with all my friends from childhood that she was mistaken, wasn't she? I still have no recollection of ever bullying this girl, in fact I can't think of any specific memories with her in them, in my mind she was simply another member of my drama group (see, a performing arts brat too - it just gets better!). However there are other incidents in my diary involving other people that solidify my status as a bit of a cow. I can no longer live in denial.
So, the question is, what do I do with this proof? How should I atone for my past wrongs and is it even possible? I think I feel a little better having told you, my anonymous reader, so that's a start. Is it helpful to carry around with us guilt that we can do nothing about? Will it help me be a better, kinder person in future to always bear in mind that long ago I hurt someones feelings intentionally? Or is this simply what being a kid is all about? Don't we have to make mistakes in the first place in order to learn from them? I truly am sorry for my crappy behaviour but I also know that I have my fair share of memories where I was on the receiving end of meanness and I don't choose to spend my time brooding over that. Nor would I ever approach a grown woman in a public place and chastise her for something that happened 15 years ago. Perhaps all I can really do is keep that little meanie madam hidden somewhere inside me for the rest of my life and make sure that the other, better versions of myself keep her squashed there forever. I promise to try...