Ever since adolescence, I have kept a journal. I would say childhood, but my serious journal keeping began around the age of 12 and it's something I will never forget. My little brother had pissed me off, so in true tween fashion, I stormed off to the room (which I shared with my brother) and hold myself in there. I found a piece of paper, which I put in a green plastic binder and went to town with my orange flair pen. There were many "friggin's" and tons of anger poured out onto the page. But when I was done, I felt so much better. It was a feeling I duplicated over and over again as I grew and graduated from one journal to the other.
My journal became my best friend through those tumultuous years of junior high and high school. It comforted broken hearts, shared memories with my friends, and dreams I hoped to achieve one day. Page after page. Some days the words poured out and on others, I could barely squeeze the words out of my pen. But no matter what happened, if I had paper and pen, I always had a friend. A friend who didn't judge and listened without interjecting their opinions or suggestions. And no matter how many days or months spent apart, my journal was always there with a blank page to lend.
Keeping a journal has changed over the years. From loose-leaf binders to hardcover notebooks, to anything that had a kawaii character on it, coming back around to where it all began: the simplicity of loose leaf and a flair pen.
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