I've been meaning to start recording my thoughts in some shape or form lately. Actually, for a long time now. I fear that when I'm old I will eventually forget the dreams I once had in my brain. The things I wanted to do when I got older. Sights I yearned to see. People I needed to meet. Ever since I was a little girl I have loved writing. Although I was in journalism, I didn't really live up to my writing potential. Too many things going on besides the stories I was typing (although two or three of my stories made the front page). I'm just going to go ahead and blame it on the event I wrote about. Or, because it was the most relevant story at the time. I figure, why not?
Although, I'm not sure if I want anyone else to read. It could just be a private release for myself. I suppose I'll find out what I want sooner or later.
I have yet to find myself. Sometimes the blackness of my mind at night is beautiful.
I can get away from all of the thoughts that don't matter.
I have been meaning to expand my vocabulary.
I have been meaning to spend more time with my mother.
I need to visit my 94 year old grandmother more often.
I let things slip right through my fingers before I even knew they were there.
Which brings me back to the reason why I wanted a journal. I have so many thoughts and realizations. Pen and paper? My hand can't possibly keep up with my mind. I'm sure the keyboard would be better.