So, I looked back on some of my old entries, which I seem to do practically every time that I go to write in this God-forsaken journal. After I read them, I think to myself, 'Oh, perhaps you should start writing again', but then I fail to do so. Does it really matter though? Maybe if I felt like I had something compelling enough to write about? I have a paper-journal to write in, but when I am finished with them, I get rid of them. Tear them into itty-bitty pieces or I burn them. I know some people have journals worth reading that are turned into novels, but mine is more of a strees reliever. I vent. I rage. I cry. I simmer. I laugh. But then, I feel, there's no need to keep all these things written down. Toss them away Britt. So, I do. It's become it's own custom. I like that. My own custom...
Shy_Red · Thu Jan 21, 2010 @ 07:19am · 0 Comments |