Yeah, the one you filled a few pages in before you left it beside the bed to be lost amongst the monsters and dust bunnies underneath?
(As a kid I used to be scared for the dust bunnies who were obviously living in fear of the monsters who were in-turn, impatiently waiting for my arm to be sleepily discarded over the side of the bed.)
I feel like this blog is a grown up version of that very journal.
And just as I shake my head while recapping my heart spilt teenage journaling, I too sigh and shake my head as I thumb through (figuratively speaking of course) the sappy passages recorded for years upon this cyberspace paper of journal blogging.
While my humor has improved ... my sappy, misguided heart has not. The one thing I can discern most clearly is the simple truth, that nothing ... absolutely nothing ... is as bad as it seems.
And at least as an adult I can be proud that I have a greater dedication to a task. After all, as a child my journals lasted weeks at a time ... and as an adult I have already dedicated 5 years to random ramblings.
This leaves me with mixed feelings of accomplishment and self pity ... how strange.
(On a side note, I am almost positive the virtual monsters on the internet are much worse than the ones my spiral bound journal might have found under my bed. So perhaps I can also take comfort in that I have a better grip on invisible fears. That or an unrealistic sense of security. Who knows.)
