Diaryland.

April 01, 2006

Time and time again, I have found myself sitting here. In this spot.
Maybe not this exact spot, but here. In front of this computer screen, staring at the keyboard and trying to find the words with which to express my thoughts.

Ever since I was a child, I have sat and written during times of great sadness, lonliness, confusion, or even boredom. At first, it was “novels”. And in my eleven year old mind, those consisted of 12 pages long. Somehow, I found much satisfaction in being lost creating characters with lives much different than mine. They were always young girls, and they were always strong and intelligent. During those years, I was obsessed with horror stories. I loved to scare and be scared, and so that is what I wrote. Ghost stories, the killer in hiding, haunted houses. Later, the stories became shorter. Funnier. Random. I didn’t keep diaries as most girls did, but I would sit in my room and write for hours just the same.

My senior year of high school, I started keeping a journal. I would write in it every single day, sometimes three times a day. I documented everything. Every funny moment, every quote, every sadness, every anger. After graduation, I started this little journal up, and it’s been out here for the world to see for nearly three years. Three years of my life. Documented. Three important years of growth and learning, love and sadness. I have shared more with complete strangers than most of the people in my life, and somehow, that has given me amazing satisfaction.

Life isn’t what I thought it would be. It never has been. It wasn’t supposed to be. I am not where I thought I would be at this age, and my constant dwelling on that issue has brought me back here, time and time again. I am learning everyday, and I am proud of that. I am seeing the world as something fresh and brand new every single day, and I am proud of that.

Three years ago, I was scared to be who I was. Read any entry I’ve written in the past, and you’ll see it. I was scared to be alone, scared to not be alone, scared to take risks, and scared to look people directly in their eyes. Now I’d like to think it’s because I’m older, and changing comes with age….but deep down, it’s more than that.

I was able to experience, make huge mistakes, cry many tears, feel humiliation, and honestly believe that the world could not get any worse.

And then I was able to sort it all out here.

I have never taken my love of writing for granted, for being understood is a true blessing.

—-

One comment

  1. Six years ago seems like a very long time. I’m pleased that you’ve kept up with your writing and I enjoy reading your entries. As a father I’m supposed to be nervous about what my daughter is up to, concerned with the many issues all young people go thru while growing and worried about how the world is treating you. After many years of talks, reading your posts and seeing the great person you have become, lets just say that I no longer worry so much about you. I will however, continue to be concerned with the world outside your door. I have tremendous satisfaction in knowing that you can handle yourself in that world with confidence and open eyes, always trying to do the right things for yourself and those around you. You will always be Daddys little girl.

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