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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 |
