Today I set out to collect my past. Will I be able to catch up? In the next few pages (I’m not sure how few---but I gather that it will be a lot), I will randomly select past journal entries. Some of them are from a secret document file, some from my yellow notebook, some from my purple journal and some from my pink flora journal. I know…. You’d wonder… why so many journals? Can’t she make up her mind on WHICH one she’d write to? Let me explain.
I started out documenting my life at the age of 7. They were in letter form though. I wrote to my aunt, to my favorite teacher, and even to my childhood crush (though most of it ended in a trash can). Ever since I can remember I have always been fascinated by books, notebooks, paper, stationery, paper dolls, postcards, pen, pencils, crayons and markers… anything that has to do with writing. I used to think that perhaps there is a reason for my obsession with pen and paper. I hope so…
So anyway I was going to explain (before I interrupted my train of thought) why I have a lot of journals. The answer is simple. Each of these journals has different kinds of paper… so I tend to match it with my current mood. Example, whenever I feel like killing myself, I turn to my yellow notebook. The paper is quite ordinary, has an ancient feel (coz I bought it in a store that sells old stocks—simply because no one buys there) so no matter how ugly my penmanship is (yes, it also matches my mood) or how I’d like to pretend that my pen is a knife and my journal is the other person, it wouldn’t really matter, coz the notebook is ugly anyway. My other journals are my good-mood journal. The ones you’d like to read years from mow. Let’s face it, most of our problems now would seem trivial a few years down the line, so it’s best that the ones you’d like to tuck away, would be compressed into one notebook. Hmmmmm does that explain my point?
The things I’ve written aren’t that great to the people who read it. Sometimes even to me. But what makes all these special is that, writing has always been my solace. I ask myself in the million times I wanted to just sleep and never wake up, why am I still here? No answer necessary. So, here it is. My Life. My Journal.
I started out documenting my life at the age of 7. They were in letter form though. I wrote to my aunt, to my favorite teacher, and even to my childhood crush (though most of it ended in a trash can). Ever since I can remember I have always been fascinated by books, notebooks, paper, stationery, paper dolls, postcards, pen, pencils, crayons and markers… anything that has to do with writing. I used to think that perhaps there is a reason for my obsession with pen and paper. I hope so…
So anyway I was going to explain (before I interrupted my train of thought) why I have a lot of journals. The answer is simple. Each of these journals has different kinds of paper… so I tend to match it with my current mood. Example, whenever I feel like killing myself, I turn to my yellow notebook. The paper is quite ordinary, has an ancient feel (coz I bought it in a store that sells old stocks—simply because no one buys there) so no matter how ugly my penmanship is (yes, it also matches my mood) or how I’d like to pretend that my pen is a knife and my journal is the other person, it wouldn’t really matter, coz the notebook is ugly anyway. My other journals are my good-mood journal. The ones you’d like to read years from mow. Let’s face it, most of our problems now would seem trivial a few years down the line, so it’s best that the ones you’d like to tuck away, would be compressed into one notebook. Hmmmmm does that explain my point?
The things I’ve written aren’t that great to the people who read it. Sometimes even to me. But what makes all these special is that, writing has always been my solace. I ask myself in the million times I wanted to just sleep and never wake up, why am I still here? No answer necessary. So, here it is. My Life. My Journal.
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