journals

i have many journals. some bought, some given. some old, some new.

big ones, small ones, leather ones, material ones, cardboard ones, plastic ones...you name it, i've got it.

why?

that's a good question. maybe i've always felt no-one would want to listen to what i've got to say, so I write it down.

or maybe its because theres a safety in being able to acknowledge something without anyone else knowing about it.

or maybe its simply because its enjoyable, logical almost to document your discoveries, your lessons- your thoughts. maybe they matter.

for whatever reason, i always have- and always will, write. 

we, as humans have a need to be heard. to feel like someones listening.

and as i look back over my journals from years gone by- i often cringe in disgust, tear up in sadness, frown in anger, laugh in rememberance, or reflect in wonder. because i'm not in the same place i was then. i'm not facing the same demons. feeling the same emotions, or even seeing the same revelations.

we are constantly growing, changing, learning.

nothing in life is constant, or stagnant. 

so i guess i'm going to keep having to buy those journals.