A Journal.

Okay, internet. I am going to confess something. I am not sure if this is permissible to admit. I do not know if it is common. But, there are times when I read my own blog. I do.

Does this make me narcissistic?

It’s just that, I am always in a perpetual state of self evaluation. Checking and rechecking. My progress. My emotional health. Am I a better person than I once was? Have I improved? Am I showing signs of growth?

And time and time again…I measure my behaviors. My words. My thoughts. I check my pulse and I see myself always lacking.

Circumstances are always changing around me. Time passes. But it seems my state of emotional health remains a constant fixation of failure for me.

I look at these words so conveniently laid out before me. And I see the struggles I had years ago, are the struggles I have today.

Does this make me eternally flawed? Or hopelessly normal?

Most girls have private journals. All covered in pink velvet and guaranteed privacy by a heart shaped lock.

My journal is a 17″ glowing screen that is publicly available to the world via the inter-web.

I don’t know if my ponderings, ramblings, verbalizations of my struggling heart serve any good purpose for the inter-webs or for me. But I will post when I can. In hopes that someday, among the thorns of my tangled thoughts a bloom will fight its way open.

 

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