I’ve thrown away all of my journals.
For as long as I can remember, they’d been a part of my life, my closest and most trusted friend. They served me well through the years, on days when I felt on edge, or felt like crying, or laughing, or like simply sharing the mundane… It’s always been a part of my life. But, I haven’t written a journal entry in a year and a half.
There’s an almost regressive feeling associated with that sort of writing these days. The purpose of it was so much associated with needing an outlet; that, I was too shy to talk to anyone else, and so I just wrote down my thoughts.
I read an entry from 3 years ago. It talked about how my weight kept falling and how I couldn’t seem to get out of bed anymore. The helplessness of those lines made me realize that I no longer in that place as a person.
There is no great nostalgia to be found in those volumes. There was only angst and uncertainty and I just don’t feel that way anymore. There are plenty of friends to talk to now, plenty of people to communicate with and now I simply write for the joy of writing. I maintain a blog…. But, mostly so I can deliver documents and thoughts on various subject matters, but almost never my feelings.
Life is Good. I’m just enjoying it. Less writing, More living.