music, books, love and kindness

 

After much inner debate and wrangling, I recently "destroyed" my journals from 2012-2022. I call them my "what was I thinking?" years, but really they do make me cringe a lot and I am ashamed of how emotional I was during that time.

Apparently, according to my mom, I am not very emotional these days, but I don't buy that. I just keep things better hidden now.

I also found my dream journals (covering 2006 to 2016) but I decided to keep those. They are not only more interesting than my real life ones, they are much better written and less cringey and less full of "woe is me" crap.

Crazy as this may sound I think my dreams (as bad as they can be) have helped me work out some things in my day-to-day life and though not all of them are "exorcised" (so many ghosts still linger) I am a lot better off inside my heart than I used to be (minus my general anxiety).

I don't think I'm going to regret throwing out my real life journals. I reread a lot of them and they are just so, so, so awful. I am not saying I'm a good person (I honestly don't know nowadays) but I know that I'm a better person than I used to be.

At least I think so.

Now, if I can just throw out my equally cringey 500 page plus novel. I am not sure why I am so attached it. "Awful" doesn't even begin to do it justice.