Twenty One Pilots Much?

I have journaled since the minute I could construct basic sentences. It was pink, and it had a tiny lock. I’ve had an innumerable amount of journals - in the physical plane and this one. When no one is there those bleached trees bound by string are there. When you have that demon you can tell no one about that sticker covered thought soaked piece will listen and not judge a word - not even a little. When you’re angry and need to use language others shouldn’t particularly hear, your journal will never be offended - let the damnation flow. When you feel alone, confusingly lost, and feeling pricks of fear nip at you, you can turn back the pages to days that feel more like today, and see that you made it through that. That damn beat up, coffee stained, tear spotted journal is beyond any value you can imagine placing on it. It’s priceless.

You should journal too.
You should buy a cheap ass notebook with light blue lines that guide you. You should buy a pen that makes you feel important. It should be a simple pen and flow like oil. You should then write in this thing as if you’re writing for your life. Give this journal all the pieces you won’t or can’t give anyone else. Let this journal cauterize wounds and nourish scars. Make prayers. Discover you shadow self. Aid healing. Start healing. Draw your dream home. Draw your dreams. Just give that damn thing all of the raw uncouth dirty fibrous pieces of you, and let it help you be the best version of you.

This is what journaling is…
It’s figuring out you’re gay.
It’s fighting for lost love.
It’s disproving god.
It’s proving God.
It’s retelling tales.
It’s scribbling anger away.
Journaling is for some this gift we get in our life to help us push through one more day. The pen is a scalpel that cuts away disease, death, and decay. Everyone should at least try once to journal in all honesty, and see what happens to them.

Haley Mørgan