"If there was a way to teleport from my bedroom to the bathroom I would be a happy costumer."
"My writings are my prized possessions. I've written since I could hold a pen and each and every one of my characters are my friends.... until dad throws out the giant box of stories I've written since I was nine. Then the characters die a little, right? Damn."
Can I technically say I've written seven books? No? Okay.
I think a lot of people think keeping a journal is like in the movies where the beautiful protagonist writes all about her boy troubles and then somehow those pages she's written all about how amazing his butt looks in football pants gets plastered all over the high school halls.
No. No. No! Just no!
While I'm sure we would all love that sort of story and have the gorgeous football player sweep the young dorky damsel off her feet you also have to think about all of the other pages written in this book.
I know very well that if someone opened up my journal they wouldn't have the slightest idea how to react. Why is this?
Well, I don't always stick to writing in my journals. Sometimes I just slap down whatever jumps out of my mind. If I'm feeling angry maybe I'll just pull out an old crayon, press it down nice and hard on the paper, and color the entire page black.
If I'm hungry I might right the word CHEESEBURGER multiple times until I actually come across a cheeseburger. Perhaps in a few minutes following my cheeseburger discovery I'll be writing BLLECKKK BLEEARRGGG UGGHHHH.
This one's more recent.
Keeping a journal has always always always been a great way to figure out how the wheels turn. Think of your mind like a giant machine with intricate pieces of mechanics that fit perfectly into each other. As we all know, machines don't always work the way we want them to (cough...Windows ....cough). Maybe something gets stuck in the spokes somewhere.
Well.... now what!?
Open up your journal. Look back at what has been building up over the past few weeks. Fights with the parents? Stress in school? Can't pay the bills? You'd be surprised how we can over look our own emotions until the very last minute. By then anxiety strikes.
If you can't exactly figure something out, write. Just write whatever comes to mind.
After losing my grandma during my Sophomore year in High School I fought with myself over what death was and overcame a lot of anxiety I faced towards what would happen and where I would go after I was finished with this life. I also had a difficult time thinking of all of the things I wanted to share with my Gram and how I wouldn't get to show her everything I've achieved after her passing.
Growing up it's easy to forget who we once were and how we once thought. I never knew I felt this way about so and so and I forgot how much I looked up to my big sister or brother. You might look back one day and appreciate how far you've come. All of the little challenges that surrounded the bigger ones and all of the accomplishes that have been forgotten somewhere in a sea of time and faces. All of these moments we've forgotten. Opening up an old journal is like opening up a door to the past.
Apparently I practically lived at the theater when I was younger.
Are you feeling a certain color today? Yellow... maybe pink? Good, grab a crayon and start scribbling. Make it sloppy, nobody is judging you here. It's your own sanctuary. A little piece of your mind on a sheet of paper. Yours.
It's crazy how different we all are. How so many different thoughts and ideas just come through at different times and how so many different emotions shine through. So many thoughts and reactions. It's scary. It's sad. It's beautiful. It's wonderful.
Find yourself! Have fun! Keep a journal!
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