i have been keeping a journal since i was 11 years old. daily, since i was about 13. i think i’m on my 26th book or something. i only have two with me at the moment, and forgot to number them. people ask what i write about. the answer is, anything. everything. it’s sorta stream of consciousness.
i never let anyone read my journals. not because they’re super secret and private – they are, at times – but because if i knew that people would read them, i would write differently. and i don’t want that. so if i am negligent enough to leave my diary underneath a tree, please be more considerate than the guys from bread.
i was flipping through my most recent journal and found it amusing. i don’t remember thinking a lot of the things i did, let alone remember writing them down. as a thank you in advance for not reading my journals without my permission, here are some sentences from my two most recent journals to give you a sneak peak into the craziness of my mind.
Writing seems more genuine without lined pages.
It would be so cool to make a Sim Beowulf!
Tomorrow will be my actual work day.
Siiiigh cake. I want to sit in a café and read.
I was in the same town as James Franco. I was about 15 feet away from Dan Radcliffe. Again. This weekend wasn’t bad.
And I return to the question. And I don’t think I want to answer. They’re both lovely boys.*
Why am I so lethargic? Well, I haven’t eaten anything. It could be that.
I’m now procrastinating on sleep.
Tomorrow’s Wednesday. Wednesday Zoop!
But hey. I wrote a song and it was swell.
This pen does not agree with this paper. Shame. I like this pen and I like this paper.
I don’t want to break the awesome with a slap of awkward.
I WISH THAT I HAD JESSIE’S GIRL. Not really. I don’t know any Jessies, or any with girls, let alone girls I wish I had. It’s a song.
*Peeta and Gale.