I bought a journal
just after Christmas, when everything at mall kiosks was half-off.
because I’m going to write in a journal. and I’m going to write in my
blog. I don’t even know how many times I’ve said such things in the
past, but I really do think writing your life down is important, even if
it all burns up in a fire and no one ever reads it.
I’ve changed a lot this year. I had my
heartbroken, I got a job, I got a new tattoo and two new piercings. I’ve
been a glutton for punishment. I tried going on medications, and
decided I didn’t care enough to take them. I’ve cried a lot, and
hopefully, laughed even more. I’ve read new books and re-read my
favorites. I’ve bought more clothes than I can physically fit into my
closet and dresser. I’ve made new friends and reconnected with friends I
fell away from.
I always shy away from writing. first of
all, I don’t think I’m that good at it. secondly, who cares about my
life enough to read “journal” entries. then I thought: who cares about
who cares? I write for me. because I love to write. I don’t care if no
one reads this. and I’m not going to try to be witty or insightful or
anything other than me. I just am. and that’s good enough for me.
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