Day 1

Okay… some catching up to do on this month-long journal:

[Day 1: Start with answering the question of why you want to journal, and beyond that, why you decided to embark on this 31-day experience. Write out what you’d like to get from journaling.]

I need to journal… not because one of my good friends has suggested it, or because the motherfucking doctor recommended it. But, because I have some serious issues currently. I'm not happy, obviously. Most of the time, I'm stressed, and mildly depressed… blah, blah, blah. I write this with the intent of writing for myself. Almost everything I've ever written - whether I seriously thought it, or not - was conceived with others' reactions in mind. It is necessary if I want to 'embark on this experience' that I don't hold anything back. It is necessary for me to be… me. I probably shouldn't even be typing this shit on a computer, because I can already tell I'm being held back by the medium and my need to do things properly. Oh well… I need the typing practice. I want this process to rejuvenate what I know I have in me. I used to be so creative. I've written things that nearly got me hard before. And I used to actually journal (rather strictly)(still a blog). If anything, the 'me' that sits here now should be capable of much more. With all the shit that's happened to me since I was 18, how could I not be more profound? Not to say that I even am profound… merely that EVERYone should be, in their own way, more profound as they age. When you travel through life, you're bound to know failures, of many kinds and varieties and depths. You're also gonna know what succeeding feels like, and the empowerment of it. You're going to experience both happiness and love and heartache, and all that shit. You're going to understand that this life is a rather complicated and textured thing… too complicated and textured to ever fully grasp. Letting out one's ideas must surely free up one's mind for other mischief. I cannot see what I must do. I cannot rest. I cannot proclaim. I am no one. I live to live. I don't love it, but I live. That gets harder when you don't know how to fix it... when saying you want happiness won't bring it. Of course, my unhappiness is our unhappiness. This is why solutions don't obviously present themselves. Because, when one of us makes a relative breakthrough, it is squashed or dulled by the ties that bind. We carry our feelings of yesterday's pain. We hurt for the other, and the damage we've caused. We're sensitive to it all, and constantly prone to perpetuating this tragic nightmare, where two bright individuals are shining dimmer in the name of love.

(1/6/14)