So I got bored yesterday, and I decided to look through my old writing files from high school (which means it's like three to four years old), and OH BOY. It is something. Here are the highlights:

1. I've used my current main character's name before. Her first name in one story, and her last name in another. The first time they were used together was in late 2019, but for a very different character with a very different purpose. So that was interesting, and it serves as an example of one of the many things I recycled and slapped into my current project.

2. Literally all of my characters were neurodivergent-coded subconsciously. There was inattentive ADHD, hyperactive ADHD, OCD, anxiety, and gifted kid syndrome. I didn't even try to make them like that. I just wrote a character that I saw as a normal character. And now with about four years of knowledge acquired through experience, I realize why all my writing was trash: I was projecting, lol.

3. I have written approximately 50,000 useless words. I am shook that I have a novel's worth of writing under my belt, even if it's all trash. But then again, it's not really trash—there is value in looking at it and realizing how I've improved.

Maybe some other time I'll post my favorite quotes from my old stuff. Even though it's bad, there are some lines that still stick the landing and made me laugh.

She had so much potential.

Oldest sister to three.

Daughter, friend to some, maybe more?

She wouldn't shut up about how she had ADHD.

She also wouldn't shut up about literature and theatre.

Could never sit still.

Had a lot of passion.

Joked about starting fires a lot.

Got a 4.0 freshman year of college, and was going for another one.

Was starting to think that maybe she might have a future in storytelling.

they sit nestled in their little case,

freezing cold.

I reach in and pluck one out from its cubicle

and with a "plink!"

it lands in a cup.

it instantly disintegrates, cooling my tea

so I can drink it without gaining third degree burns.

A purple flower is lying on the sidewalk.

How did it get there, I wonder?

Did a man pluck it from its earthy home, planning to hand it to his lover, but upon rejection cast it aside?

Or did a young child grab it to give it to her mother, only upon tripping and scraping her knee, the flower was forgotten as she was taken inside?

Or maybe its frail stem snapped, and the wind carried it from its field of residence to bask in the sun like a lizard on a rock?

Or maybe I'm thinking too hard about this.

Hi. My name is pro_scribbler. I am currently a freshman in college studying English and Theatre. I made my Prose account sometime in May of 2019, I believe. I'm not sure. I hope someday to make myself proud of the person I've become. I write sometimes, and sometimes I write on Prose. Life's been really busy for me lately, so I haven't really had time to try producing writing good enough to go public with it.

But hey, I'm still writing a little bit, and that's better than nothing. :)

Happiness is a warmth. It has varying intensities, but it is some type of warming sensation.

It's the color teal, a mix between blue and green, producing a calm yet bright color.

It tastes like chocolate, milk chocolate—dark chocolate is too bitter, milk chocolate is sweet and smooth when it swirls in your mouth or goes down your throat.

It feels like that one type of hug when the person hugging you just keeps holding you tighter and doesn't let go and you don't want to let go and you just feel safe and at peace for the first time in a while.

It's hearing a person's laugh, and you start laughing because they are laughing, and so you're both laughing and you won't stop laughing for some time.

It's just the little things that make you smile and get you through the day.