So I'm realizing how much I miss writing random journal entries whenever the mood strikes. I have little notepads here and there, but I don't stick to one because well I just haven't. I have this beautiful journal my mother gave me. I want to fill it up, but I guess I think it would be kind of weird to take it in public, like to work. To write at lunch. I can write on notebook paper, but I can't bring myself to bring my journal because I know it'd draw attention with its distinct appearance. But I want to bring it with me everywhere. Its the thing I want to write in right now. I know the best thing would just to leave it at home, actually that would be the easiest thing to do. And I'm tired of living like that. I write letters, I read romance novels, I write on ripped out yellow pieces of notebook paper from work or blue printer paper. Why can't I bring this journal? Why do I care? Why do i feel there is a stigma attached to all this? To me, its a place to write in. I have the two last entries as dear journal…but before that I just wrote the date and then wrote randomly. I hate treating it as a typical journal. Maybe I should go through it, cut out anything I deem not appriopriate or important and then just bring it with me as a random writing instrument and when people ask what it is, its just a place to write. I think I solved my own problem. Actually I haven't, there are some people who make me very uncomfortable. So I'm still better of leaving it at home and taking a notebook with me. I'm just bad at remembering to consistently bringing it with me. There is a girl I'd like to slap just thinking about her. She's as fake as her tan and friendliness. I need one consistent place. I need a carry journal and then just keep this one as my nightime journal. Why is this such a big deal? What difference does it make as to what I write on as opposed to what I write? It should be the other end of that spectrum. I'm getting fed up with myself. Trying to think positive here also. Both are a bitch. I have scattered thoughts all over the place and I guess I just need to make a binder. That might be the best idea. Still I need something I can just grab and take with me. Which I think I have. I'm too fussy, too picky about the little things. I guess my mind just needs something to obsess about. And now I'll call it a night. A night. Haha see I called it. Well, technically I typed it. I feel good, slightly, it will pass, it already is.


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