When I first picked up my shiny, yellow, number 2 pencil and scribbled with it across the paper of my speckled composition book, my love for writing began. Writing has always been my escape. At a young age, I would sit in my cozy, pink room for hours on end, jotting down day by day moments in my little pink fuzzy diary. My diary was my life. It contained secrets, memories, and silly jokes that little Julie seemed to somehow enjoy. From then on, my writing blossomed. As I grew older, I had to, unfortunately, move on from my pink fuzzy diary and join the technological bandwagon. Bye bye, number 2 pencil, and hello to the big black keys that clicked loudly as I typed fast on my computer.
Journaling has always been a favorite hobby of mine. I start writing and then boom, I am transformed into this world where I can create and imagine anything I want. There are certainly no limits. This little world is special to me because only I can make the changes or share how I feel. This safe place is for me to share my ideas, my interests, my dreams, and my thoughts whenever I am excited, nervous, or just looking to speak to someone who understands.
Many of my friends find it interesting that I let all my emotion onto this piece of paper, but to me, it is way more than that. I am venting and letting out thoughts that I may not feel ready to say in a spoken word. It is my judgment-free zone where no one else can laugh or question my motives. Journaling allows me to understand my thoughts and concerns in a clearer way. I have further gained control of my insecurities and my health in more ways then I can imagine.
As I sit weekly with my hot tea and my floral journal in hand, I begin to wind down for the night and journal my wishes for the new year.
