thots
Often, I have no idea how to start a thing when I’m writing. Too stuck on the idea that what comes out won’t be as perfect as the idea I have in my head. Which doesn’t really make sense because I have no clue what I want to write about in the first place. Anyway so that’s my intro. I used to write all the time. Every now and then I will find a journal from years ago stuffed in the narnia of my closet. In them just my day to day life, what had ailed me, what made me excited, usually about a boy that I was obsessing over. Never stories. Maybe I wasn’t brave enough to write stories? In school, I did. All my teachers thought I would be some kind of writer when I grew up. My teachers probably wouldn’t approve of who I am now. Then again, a lot of my teachers were white if not white washed. I am writing again though. Hence, this post. Also, I am writing in 2 separate journals. The first one I got at walmart when I thought I was going to be using it for my witchy stuff, spells, notes, tarot, teas and whatnot. It’s small, black leather bound with gold rimmed pages. Very appropriate for it’s original intention, I think. I like the vibe. The other journal I have was gifted to me for my birthday. It’s a sketch book which means there aren’t any lines and I am free to do with the pages however I wish. The cover is canvas-y with swatches of multi color dots if you will. Both journals in it’s beginning stages. The pages are still virgin white and have not yet been cried on. Only the first pages have been looked upon and scribbled on. Scribbles of my own neurosis that only I can ever understand. Alas, neither have been used for there intended purposes but I am beginning to love them nonetheless. I hope I grow to depend on them like I did when I was younger.
