In case you don't know, my memory is shot to hell. I was having a hard time remembering the details of a certain series of events involving a boy I really started to love last year (P.M.M. duh). So I grabbed my journal and went looking for what I had written about it. When I got to the place where the page on which I had written down how/why things ended SHOULD be.. I discovered that I had ripped it out! I think this is because it was on the same page that recorded how I started dating the new guy (D.H.S. duh). And somewhere down the line I decided I never wanted to read that page again and tore it from the record of my life, the one in my own handwriting at least. So dumb. Who rips entire pages from their journal? Mine is half ripped out and/or whited-out. This leads me to my point: my journal is a very poor representation of my life. I will be horrified when someday my children discover it and want to read all about the preteen through college adventures of their mother. I should really just burn my journal. But then how will I ever remember anything? Would I rather remember my life according to the rantings and ravings in the journal of a delusional, hormonal, often depressed and irrational teenage girl? Or would I rather remember.. nothing? This is a tough one.

1 comment:

Coco said...

I think that it's okay. Feelings change over time and we must adequately reflect that in our journals. Plus, our posterity don't deserve to know everything about us!