See this box of books?
It doesn't look like much, I know....
Know what it is?
It's all of the journals I've kept since 1983.
There are 45 of them in this box.
It's my whole life, really. Or most of it anyway.
I'm trying to figure out what to do with them.
My partner thinks they are art and that I should share them with the world in a blog or something of the like.
We spent the last hour or so with me reading them to him and us busting our guts with laughter. It took some time for me to stop feeling embarrassed.
He said my 16 year old self is nothing to feel embarrassed by but, reading through them, I feel like that teenager's voice is still my own, you know? She and I are still the same person and does understanding why she wrote the way she did make me immature?
I also discovered that, at times, I was wise. Which is kind of amazing.
I do think they should be more than a box full of books (or a closet full of skeletons, perhaps?)
I just have to figure out how to get them there.
