I used to have a diary. Someone from church, when I was younger, suggested I keep a journal. I don't remember why. Maybe he just saw I was quiet and didn't readily make friends. It was very therapeutic and tons of fun. I'm secretive by nature and love to write, a diary was a perfect outlet for me ... then my mom found it. I had written stuff I had never told ANYone ... and not only did she read it, she threatened to tell my dad everything that was in it. It stopped being fun. -_-
I would still buy journals from time to time [[I have TONS of empty journals and notebooks]] but didn't write anything "truly" personal for fear of someone going thru it again.
So, here we are, no real name, I'm not even going to tell anyone I have this, I'm just going to rant my little heart out and vent my frustrations and hopefully look back in a couple of months (years?) and laugh my ass off. :)
Welcome to some little part of my mind.
