A Decade of Journaling
(For non medium members, please read for free here)
Today I cracked open the spine of my new journal. I couldn’t help but take a small sniff at the smell of the new pages. The book feels firm in my hand, the pages crisp and clean.
I flip through the pages of this book and I find myself wondering — what would this book will be filled up with soon? Will it be filled with the excited whimsical scribbles of new hopes and dreams or will it be scratched with moments of heartbreak and pain. Maybe it’ll be a bit of both.
I turn to the first page and date the top corner — 24 September 2024.
2024?
I pause.
Could it be?
I push my chair back and lean down to grab the box beneath my desk. It’s a small pink box, but one that weighs a ton.
I open it up to see the cover of an old journal — the one with butterflies. I pull out that one and the one below. And the one below that, and the one below that.
Soon there is a whole pile of journals in front of me.
But they’re not the one I’m looking for. I lean into the box to see one final journal sitting at the bottom — the one covered with stickers. I…
