My pocket knife was on the table in front of me, but I’m so sick of repeating myself. I felt it in my mind, across my body but I stood up and walked out the door instead. T-shirt in 40 degrees, my arm turned deep purple, jacket in 40 degrees. I listen to the Beatles because I know you like that band. I really do want to hold your hand again. The water curls on the rocks. Soft washing and loud sounds. I’ve always been such a fool for it. A liquid that won’t let you touch me like you did that night.
Sleep in the sun, before it’s gone, because it won’t stay, because it’s beautiful.
Born in 1996
Over the coming months, I'll be publishing several journal entries a day in chronological order. I began journaling in 2007, when I was eleven years old. Even then I wrote as though I were archiving my life, collecting details about my world. As I grew older, journaling became more of a description of my emotional world.
I am an aspiring creative nonfiction writer who is producing very little since graduating college this Spring. But with this unusually thorough account of my entire adolescence, I feel as though I have been given a gift that has been under my nose this whole time.
This is a practice in forgiveness and vulnerability. It is also a way to laugh at myself.
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Girltown 