Journals

Today I bought a new journal. I looked at my last one which is barely written in and writing in that journal, just picking up where I left off, would be sort of painful. It's like going back and having to explain everything and reflect on all those missed months, all those missed months that I couldn't bring myself to write about it.

So there sat a new journal, fresh and sophisticated. I updated it with a brief of 2009 and of early 2010, when I say brief I mean BRIEF, with no hate nor feeling, just illustrated as it was and how I experienced it. I then wrote so freely about things with me now, my emotions pouring onto the page, through that pen like tears. It's true, writing is such a beautiful therapy to me.

(One day, when it is full - and I do hope to fill this one- I shall share it with someone special to hold and treasure.)

tears - writing is such a beautiful therapy to me. One day, when it is full, and I do hope to fill this one, I shall share it with someone special.

tears - writing is such a beautiful therapy to me. One day, when it is full, and I do hope to fill this one, I shall share it with someone special.

I looked at the sky today and smiled.

I'm always smiling but it's like I have an answer to that temporary question. I'm not exactly sure what the question was, but I got my answer.

I woke up today feeling content again.

Calm Blue.

I'm feeling really content recently, it might even be bursts of pure happiness. I don't know if it's the sun or people around me, but I feel great.

I can talk about things I couldn't before, I can sleep at night. I can read my favourite books and do my favourite things again.

I've come to the realisation that I don't hate all those people who collectively, left me feeling crumpled and low - I let those people do that to me. Instead I pity their need to do that to people, they've got their own problems.

So here I am, content and myself again.

Days turn to months and months turn to years.

Every day I need more and more pills.

Every day is worse.

Every day my head screams.

Every day I don't want to do it.

Every day, the things I like.

Every day, I don't want to do.

My head screams.

Let go, let go.

Let it all go away.

More and more pills to sleep.

Every day, more and more.

Every day I don't want to wake up.

Every day I don't want to eat.

Every day I don't want to watch those programmes.

Every day I don't want to listen to that music.

Every day I don't want to read those books.

Every day, every day.

Letting go of every day.