Are You Kidding Me?

I have a journal that I started back in 1995, when I was about 18 years old. The other day I pulled it out and while going on a mini road trip with my sister (which consisted of us getting very lost), I read her some parts of it and we had a few good laughs.

My teen years were so full of anger on every topic, from parents, to boys, to school and to work. It seemed like all I did was bitch about stuff. But it made me realize that my journal was like my therapist. Sure, I had friends that I could talk to, but there are some topics that you can’t even tell your friends. And it wasn’t like I had a big sister that I could confide in, so I turned to my journal.

My journal was therapy for my soul. In it I figured out so many problems and also vented my frustrations. Now that I look back on it, the problems seem so petty, but at the time I was a teenager, they were major to me.

I didn’t get all nostalgic after reading it, because I saw how angry and troubled I was. But I think that if I didn’t have my journal to talk to, I would have been worse off.

I still write in it every once in awhile, but not much anymore. I consider it bad luck to write in it, because whenever I wrote about a new relationship in my journal, that relationship started to fizzle out. As for my problems, I have a file on my computer now that I write in, because it’s just so much easier to type than it is to handwrite.

But I would definitely recommend everyone get a journal or file on their computer that they can vent their deepest secrets into. That way you aren’t bothering anyone else with a problem and you don’t have to get embarrassed telling anyone. Although, if someone looks through your computer and finds that file, you’re screwed. So better yet, make sure you password protect that document.

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