THE EMPTY PAGES OF MY JOURNAL

 A beautiful diary

A black fountain pen

A series of ugly thoughts

And the person I was then

For someone like me who loses herself often in her thoughts and fascinations, writing has been a boon, a perfect way of expressing myself. I have encountered panic and paranoia, doubt and dilemma and if it wasn't for my journal, I am clueless about where the vicious thoughts in my head would have taken me. But there were times when anxiety guided my actions and attention was my drive (sounds pathetic already?). Breaking down was a disaster and I was afraid of embarrassment. Projected circumstances scared me (which is when I said "hi" to overthinking) and the real circumstances, well, let's say I escaped to the wrong places. 

Those were the times when the pages of my journal were empty (quite a lot like my insides). I never tracked what I thought, never owned up to my words and never acknowledged my state of mind. And that was the main reason behind why a feeling became a mindset and bred fear and negativity. If I was not okay, I had no idea why or what what would help me feel better. Even minor rudeness seemed like an attack. I felt shadowed by inferiority and deserted by reason.

A soldier's readiness for war requires stability within. And I didn't know what that was like. But I did know that something needed to change because I was exhausted. Not of fighting, of running, of not facing, of hiding. In my first journal entry, I admitted this and felt a strange, unhealthy weight being lifted off my chest. With every paragraph I jotted, I pulled out the thoughts that would otherwise have lingered in my mind and that made me go from overthinking to actually thinking, acknowledging and accepting. 

I started by writing lame poetry as a ten year old. Words then seemed of little power to me. But today, I stand wronged by myself as expression is my lifeline for it stimulates rationality and thoughtfulness. Writing healed me in mysterious ways, keeping me still and patient for growth to happen. I wouldn't have become the woman I today am if the little lonely girl hadn't mustered up courage at those tiny instances. The small steps brought me here. Here's to all my flaws, for if they weren't there, what would I have embraced?

I love you diary, I love you fountain pen, I love you ugly thoughts, and I'm so thankful to the empty pages of my journal. 💝

(picture credits : google images)