What keeps me sane | Life 2018

I find solace in writing.

In case that's not yet obvious.

I just started a new journal, nothing special, just an extra notebook I had lying around. I'd say that would last me the whole January, depending on how much I actually write in it. I plan it to be a memoir, a record of my 2018 thoughts and I hope I can push through till the end of the year.

I still have my UA&P Student Planner, I can use it until August 2018. I plan to keep on using it, but I'm not sure how to proceed since I also have my Starbucks 2018 planner. I also have this blog, and my Youtube channel. I guess I'm this intent on making sure I leave something that can prove that I existed on this world, even just for a small period of time.

My journals keep me safe. They are my lifelines, things that have kept me occupied for majority of my life. If only I can still find my old journals, but I'm pretty sure they have been ruined by flashfloods we regularly encounter back home. I remember having at least three journals just for my sophomore year in high school. My diaries helped my grandmother understand what I'm going through and helped me release my anger, frustration and have an ear that can listen to my deepest darkest thoughts.

Why am I even talking about this?

I just finished watching a Buzzfeed video of someone buying a diary online and reading it. It just reminded me of how I used to be so eager to write down all my thoughts and thought processes. I hope I can bring that back.. then maybe someday when I have an actual imprint in the history of the world, it would get printed out and read by others and idk, judged as a 21-year-old who thought it was cool to record my deepest darkest secrets online and offline.

It's a strange dream, yes, and if ever it happens, I seriously hope I'd be dead. I don't know if I can face the judgment of strangers about my thoughts.

And wow, that's a stupid thing to say. Because here I am blogging on a public site. I guess what I mean is that my journals have a different feel than my blog. My blog is somehow censored, I guess. Filtered. Whereas my relationship with my pen and paper is as raw as it goes. There's no sense of time or space, just a hurried scribble of thoughts as I catch them from my troubled mind. I can't seem to properly expound it, but I hope it makes sense. I different side of my comes out when I have a pen and paper in hand.

The true me comes out, I guess. :)

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