Back in the good ol’ days I had this leather bound journal that I used to write in, but there is still some space (a lot of space actually). I’m not sure if I should pursue doing another journal. I really liked it due to how personal you could get (not that I don’t get personal here it’s just that I’m secretly really angsty and whiny and sorta a wrong person so I don’t want to ruin someones day by being a limberwocky (not sure if that’s a word but I dig it)).
I also used to do this journal on my computer which I did for quite a long time, but that is even worse because I was a bit more grown up and wow I was quite a character inside my head.
Also, there was this time I tried to write a story but I prefer not to think about that particular red notebook that kind of hurts to even touch. It’s a shame, really.
I just like the idea of the whole… paper thing… I guess is what I can describe it as. It’s cool.