I used to write a lot more than I do now.
There was also something to pen, something to muse on. My journals are a testament to everything that I have ever been through in life. Pages upon pages of documentation, note-like entries and little doodads I had inserted into pages of various sizes and quantities were the stuff I crammed my drawers with.
They were mostly private things, I had never shown anyone what was written on these journals, because I didn’t think anyone would understand. They would alternate from being whimsical and dreamy, to downright angry and violent.
I had my first one when I was 6 or 7…I wrote that I had liked a boy in school. A nosy older cousin (haha) started teasing me about it, and my father heard of it. He promptly assumed that I was already planning on getting a boyfriend, and stormed off, angry. It amuses me to no end how he could have imagined things to be like that. At 7, I had no concept of romantic love at all. I had no concept of the birds and the bees… At that time, I only fancied my crush object’s hair, the curl in his eyelashes, the symmetry of his fingers, the fact that he was a good five inches taller than me.
That was pretty much all I had at the time.
I find it harder to write these days. There was so much going on, and so many things happening around me. However, the paradox there was that even if there were so many things happening, and it was many times easier to record them, I never found the time to.
If I ever did get to write, it would be quite like this…done on the spur of the moment, and poorly proofread and edited.
Still, I keep telling myself that it is probably better to keep at this. I have since regretted how much of my life was gone, memories and moments lost forever because I had not written them down.
I’ve started and done over writings many times in the past. (This is also probably the umpteenth time that I’ve started a blog, and written a piece such as this, promising a fresh start for myself and etc…)
My excuse was that I never had time, or was busy. It is all I have, though, if I really think about it. Time. And that challenge to be make myself as clear as possible.
🙂 Wish me luck.