When you give a girl a journal, you give her more than just a notebook. You give her pages to fill with countless memories. You give her an emotional outlet for the more difficult days she will face. You give her a secure place to write all about her first kiss, her relationships struggles, her family drama. You give her a metaphorical comfort zone, a safehaven. Most importantly, you give her a voice.

I didn’t know much about having a writing voice when I was younger. My elementary journals are full of scribbled pictures of my old pets and stories about what went on during the day, beginning with the cliché, “dear diary.” For eight-year-old me, these journals gave me a running start.

As I got older, I started channeling more of my emotions into my writing. When I entered middle school, I remember always having something worthy of writing down. It was a chaotic time, though a decent amount of it was exaggerated. Though I know for sure I had been dealing with some heavy personal stuff back then, those notebooks are full of unsent love letters to my crush at the time. It’s crazy to look back on then and laugh at how innocent I was. Fourteen years old and I thought I was in love. Those journals have given me perspective.

The beginning of high school was pretty emotional too. However, those journals actually did focus on personal issues, the ones I couldn’t control. I remember a lot of tears flowing while writing those entries. I used to sit in the corner of my room, scrawling some nonsense about how my world was ending and trying to pinpoint who to blame. At that age, I didn’t know how to deal with anything other than school work. I was a mess, but writing allowed for me to somehow express myself. Those journals have given me hope.

Reaching the end of high school, I noticed that my collection of diaries had begun to slim. I have maybe two from that time, both of which were never completed. As sad as it is to lack what thoughts were going through my head at that time, I also find a lot of comfort in it. My last year or two in high school were some of the best times of my life so far. I was content with what I had because I knew I was lucky to have it. I excelled in school, had a steady job, had a solid group of friends and was surrounded by people I loved and who loved me. And that’s all I needed. The positives outweighed the negatives and I think that’s the real reason I was so happy during the later years of high school. Though the writing is scarce, those journals have given me memories.

Today, I continue to write in a journal, multiple actually. I don’t feel that I need them to release my emotions anymore, but they are a part of who I am. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without my journals… without writing. It has made me stronger somehow. They are reminders of everything I’ve gone through, minor obstacles to major ones, and of how I’ve changed. I grew through my writing and my writing has grown alongside me. I know I will continue to write for the remainder of my life, in some form or another. I will always define myself as a writer, regardless of how many people want to hear my voice. So, when you give a girl a journal, you not only give her a voice, memories, hope, or perspective, but you give her purpose.