Diaries

My aunt Raquel bought me my first diary when I was about 10 years old for Christmas. It was blue, sparkly and had a lock and key attached to it. When I opened the present she told me that when she was about my age she loved writing in a diary and I should try it out. I remember being ecstatic about my little diary, and the fact that I could write all my secrets down while having them hidden and kept safe from prying eyes. I remember my first ever journal entries being about which celebrity boys I was currently crushing on (Orlando Bloom & Jeremy Sumpter hello), my best friends and enemies, and whatever issues a pre-teen could possibly have.

I started writing as often as I could. The rest of my family caught on to my new found hobby, and I started receiving more and more of them for Christmas. In high school I still wrote in my physical journals, but I loved writing online on live journal as well.

As I was cleaning my room up today I found a couple of old diaries, and naturally I started flipping through them and reading a few passages from my past. I'm immediately filled with many different emotions...mostly embarrassment at how immature I am, but there many great happy memories that come back to mind, like when I received my first guitar in 2007, and many sad ones as well. It's crazy to see how far I've come, and how my maturity level has really progressed over the years (though I would still say I don't feel like an adult at all still).

Even though I have to fight the urge to rip up and burn my old diaries because of sheer embarrassment, I'm reminded that my past is what made me who I am today... every horrible memory, every embarrassing situation, and every joy is a memory worth remembering. I've also realized that my aunt Raquel gave me more than a diary that Christmas. She gave me a way to clarify all of my puzzling emotions, a way to understand myself better, a way to remember my past, and a way to release all my thoughts and express myself.

There are so many times where I felt so confused, depressed, and hopeless. Journaling, writing down all my feelings without reservation and fear of judgment from anyone really helped me figure out exactly what I was going through, and it helped me cope with all the jumbled mess in my head. It's helped me more than I realize, and even though I know I'll probably be embarrassed by all my diary entries 10 years from now when I read it over... I won't ever regret journaling it all.

Writing has been and will probably always be my therapy.