Open/Close Book


Are you reading my diary?

Hidden in the drawers of the same desk set I’ve had since I was a little kid, there are multiple quarter-filled notebooks filled with the rants and ramblings of the chaotic young mind of the world’s biggest drama queen. These texts held the deepest and darkest of secrets of a little girl trying to figure out her growing and changing world.

These are my childhood and teenage diaries.

I am the worst at keeping a diary, but I constantly tried to start one when I was younger. I always thought I had to keep a diary of some sort. That was what young girls in their preteens were supposed to do. Girls at that confusing age are supposed to take their pink sparkly pens to their spiral bound notebooks and expel teenage word vomit onto the pages. A young girl’s diary is supposed to be a safe space where she can express her heart’s deepest desires. Being a shy and soft spoken kid, I assumed that it was exactly the right place to express myself throughout my life when life got too intense for me.

None of my diaries ever made it past ten pages.

I’m not sure exactly stopped me from composing my thoughts down onto the notebooks.  I’d start to find moments to capture down on paper and write consistently for a few days. Then, I either lost interest, got distracted, or lost the diary itself. I’d lament about my lack of skills and consistency in keeping a journal, then I would go and buy a new notebook a few months later to make another attempt at putting my thoughts to paper. I  am just bad  at writing down my thoughts and keeping a diary.

Then again, I have been keep a fairly consistent diary for over one hundred days.

For the past few months, I have posted about my heart’s desires, my struggles, my hopes, my dreams, and everything in between. I have carved time out of my day to write down and construct my thoughts into a diary entry on a fairly consistent basis. Every day, my phone buzzes with the notification that someone out there liked what I said. This is the most constant diary that I have ever kept. Who knew keeping a blog was the best way I could keep a record of my thoughts, hopes, and fears?

Maybe, the key is to let people read my diary.

More and more, I’ve noticed that I’ve had more success in staying consistent with my writing when I allow myself to be vulnerable with a world of strangers. Whether it is my own story or one of my own invention, I need an audience to read what I have to say. I am excited when I see that someone out there has read what I have to say on a variety of topics. I think it’s better for me as a writer and as a person to know that my words are validated and have merit.

Thanks for reading my diary.


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