*insert preteen sob spiral here*
I just wanted to put you in the same place I am mentally whenever I hear the word "diary."
That's not to say I don't appreciate the significance of having some sort of journal/log/outlet. I mean, I blog, what kind of hypocrite would I be if I rejected journaling?! I just tend to associate "diary" with a lot of juvenile, emotional connotations.
For almost my entire childhood, different family members would try to encourage me to write a diary, to the point that every gifting event yielded at least two blank journals with pens. I'm not sure why everyone pushed for it, or if it was just a go-to generic gift for girls, because it never really stuck. The handful of times I tried, it always felt forced, awkward. More often than not I would read what I wrote and hate how whiny or childish I sounded, ashamed of whatever feelings I had penned.
The only solid argument for me to write a journal was for future generations. Even that wasn't too motivating, since my life is pretty average. So until I had something interesting to share, I just avoided the whole thing.
And then, this blahg!!! Aren't we all glad I finally got over myself and started this shit?!?
No comments:
Post a Comment