I have always been a fan of journaling and writing. Essays and memoirs have been a favorite of mine ever since I started reading David Sedaris a few years after, Me Talk Pretty One Day came out. This would have been after my brief stint working at a bookstore, where one of my coworkers, laughing, showed me a book and I told him he ‘should try it.’ This book was Running with Scissors, by Augusten Burroughs. 

I kept a diary, as one does, as a kid. Writing about playing with Trolls or our road trips. My moms relationships. How much I was in love with a totally age appropriate celebrity. JTT. Michael Hutchence. Hanson. Captain von Trapp. I kept a daily journal of what my friend and I did on our month-long trip to Hawaii that detailed EVERYTHING. I have written intermittently to myself during tragedy or in contemplation, when I couldn’t get something off my mind. 

But, I suppose, there are things that only one or two people are privy of, and a few things even, that no one but my inner voices know about me.