Journaling
Text first appeared in Sierra's Take Five
I’ve been writing in a journal since junior year of high school when I came across this trio pack of softbound journals at Barnes & Nobles. I thought they were cute but, in retrospect, they were tacky with curlicue ‘DREAM’ and ‘HOPE’ splashed across the fronts. I still journal now, everyday. When I say journal, I mean writing until my hand cramps up or the words don’t bleed as much. I also mean planning out my week in bullet journal spreads. I also mean pasting photos and magazine clippings and ripped envelopes onto the paper until the spines of my journals break and rip at the seams. I think my journal is the only thing that keeps me from falling apart which explains their tattered state by the final page. I try to find any slivers of time I can to write what’s on my mind or what I cannot say out loud: in between classes, during class, after hours of studying and in the hours past midnight when I arguably should get some sleep. I’ve written in thirty-five journals and I’m already breaking open my thirty-sixth– a hardbound.
