When I was six I had a journal that I wrote in pretty often. Then my sister found it and (can you believe it) read it. I was horrified. I ripped it up into tiny little pieces and threw it all away.
I really wish I hadn't ripped it up and thrown it away. But I did that all the time growing up. I’d start a journal or a blog, write in it furiously for a good while, and then forget about it. Sooner or later I’d come back to it and be embarrassed by what I had written, and either delete the blog or dispose of the journal.
So I’m starting another blog. But this time I’ve learned my lesson. It doesn’t matter if my life isn’t amazing enough to write about, or if I accidentally admit something I’m ashamed of, or even if (heaven forbid) somebody actually reads what I write.
What matters is I write.
I just finished reading George Orwell’s 1984 (because they never made me read it in school and I had plenty of hours to kill traveling home from the east coast) and even though it was depressing, I loved how the first thing that starts to separate Winston (main character) from the rest of crowd is that he starts writing. And his writing is terrible. He doesn't even use punctuation and his thoughts jump everywhere and you feel almost as jumbled and frightened and frustrated as he feels. But it lets him see himself.
For me writing is like looking in a mirror, and sometimes I hate doing it, but those are the times when I really need to look at myself and acknowledge all the stupid and all the awesome things I do. I probably sound more dramatic than I mean to sound, I tend to do that, but I needed to write today. So thanks.
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