I actually wrote in my paper journal tonight.
What is truly me? My thoughts? It's hard to believe that at 30, I still struggle to find MY voice beneath the noise of all the superfluous thoughts that take residence in my mind. That is why I need to write more. I NEED this journal. Because someday I want to write something that helps someone, and I want those words to be mine. There may be nothing new under the sun, but I suppose the writer in me never stops fighting against that reality. I want to write something that makes someone feel in a way they've never felt, or reminds them of something long forgotten. To know my words made a difference -- maybe in all this writing I have done, I was only ever panning for gold. And truthfully, I quit that pursuit years ago, probably a lot to do with [someone]. But it is time to begin the search again. I must write. I have always been a writer. And whether it's stream of consciousness like this or a structured story or essay, I need to keep doing it.
9:30 pm - Wednesday, Dec. 02, 2015
Recent entries:
In Which Foundmercy Ruminates on Being A Mother - Thursday, Oct. 27, 2016
Boring entry - Friday, Mar. 18, 2016
In which Foundmercy whines for a while then gives herself a pep talk - Wednesday, Dec. 30, 2015
Too old for this, too young for that - Monday, Dec. 28, 2015
Miserable Idiot - Friday, Dec. 25, 2015
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