The prompt of this post is to write about the value of keeping a journal.
I was enchanted by the journals in Barnes and Noble. My sister bought me one when I was thirteen but I never really got the hang of “journaling.” I’d read books about girls writing in their diaries, but it didn’t really take with me. I scribbled and wrote down plans for my stories in them.
When I was fifteen my first love broke up with me completing the action with a thousand crushing insults about my personality. I suddenly woke up from a dream world of childhood into the hell of adolescence. It took me months before I could find myself enjoying anything. I took a composition notebook and covered it with pictures that inspired me. Then I decided to do something new. I taught myself a new style of hand writing.
Ever since that year I have kept a journal almost every day. I find a great deal of comfort and peace in sorting out my thoughts on paper. As my history teacher reminds me often, someone once said, “Thoughts untangled themselves over the tip of a pen.” As the years have past I often record my prayers in my journal. It has been a pleasure for me to go back over them and explore the journey of my soul along the course of my life.