I remember Patty saying something about girls who keeps journals way back in first-year college that I now forgot. (Enlighten me on this one, Pat.)

But if there’s one thing I’d like to say about girls who keeps journals, it’s the fact that these girls love to keep memories about the not-so distant past, however sad, crazy or stupid it may be. They’re never afraid to look back, learn from their mistakes, laugh at their stupid ranting, smile at their emo moments, and once in a while wince at what they did back then. In short, they’re one heck of bravery stuck in a 120-pound or so body.

I for one have journalsss. Sometimes, I don’t even get myself as to why do I have one, two, three, four journals; not counting my notebook-turned journals during those I-am-so-bored-with-your-cl

ass-I-better-rant-about-it-moments or my articles written in scratch papers, yellow papers, even at the back of my reviewers. I don’t know, probably because when the verbal diarrhea hits you, you’ll poo in any available sheet of paper you can see.

Some few nights ago, I was having a conversation with Mae about last outing’s inebriation moments when I told her I my college buddies and I compose a “Inuman Session 101: The Stages of Inebriation” back in the days. (see post in another article) lol. It made me search for one of those journals where I’ve written it and skimmed through the first few pages.

Yuck. I was bitter and emo back in 2005. Stupid boy-girl problems. Later on, journal became mooore emo with my ‘slit my throats’, ‘feel so empty’ rants I wanted to hurl. Seriously. As in I’m wincing as I type those words. Middle part appeared I’ve moved on and start ranting about profs, blockmates, subjects that I hate or love as well as inuman-bonding sessions with friends (the part where I’ve found the inuman session 101 post). Last part seemed like I started becoming lazy at writing and started rewriting quotes I like from movies, TV shows and books, and one from the Bible. 🙂

And that was just my pocket journal. Cool, right? I was able to squirm at my own mushiness and smile at my misadventures and started to remember things I would normally forget had I not jot it down on a piece of paper.

So what’s the whole point of this? Apart from the fact that this is my first ‘tapusang’ article in ages, I’d like to say be not afraid to write. I think the sexiest thing in the world is when a person is able to voice out what he thinks. People don’t need to see it if you’re afraid to show it. Do it for yourself. Just think. What if one day you’ll end up having Alzheimer’s? Wouldn’t you want to remember? (enter The Notebook scenes here) And laugh, smile, cry, loathe, love and feel the way you did back then?

Now ask me why I keep journals. Nothing. Just because. 🙂