Dear Journal...?

I'm contemplating journaling again. My friends both journal and I feel like it would be good for me. After all, what is a blog? It's practically an online journal. I mean, I dump all of my shit in here. My triumphs, my tribulations, my heart and soul. I tap my fingers away and explain the deepest pieces of my heart. I say what I think, what I feel, what I want, what I need. The happy, the sad, the melancholy, and the just plain confusing. It helps me iron out the wrinkles on my mind. Sometimes it's enough, sometimes it's not, but it always helps me feel at least that little bit better. I have something here for me to look back on, to remember, that holds without judging. People can read if they want to read, but they don't have to. People can judge.

I used to keep a journal. I kept a journal very regularly between 5th-9th grades... back when times for me were a little more difficult. I went through some stuff that wasn't good and even some stuff I didn't think I was going to make it through. I still have those journals. I don't know why I hold on to them. I think I hold on to them because they remind me that I can get through anything and that I'm strong enough to get through anything and everything.

...Writing this, I've looked at the word "journal" quite a bit. I've written it enough in this post for it to look like a strange word. "Journal." I see the word "journey" in there, and it makes sense. The journeys I've gone through in my life have been chronicled in journals. The journals I've written hold the secrets I kept, the feelings I felt, the desires I had throughout those journeys. It's all making sense.

I need to start journaling.

Good thing I have a blank one here at home.