Dear Diary is where I dive into the mess and magic of relationships — with others, and with myself. I don’t have the answers, but I believe in connecting through words.
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I get obsessed with things — mushrooms, astrology, tarot, the color green, and so on. Now, I’m on an inception spiral, obsessed with the fact that I’ve been obsessed with journaling my entire life. I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. I’ve even started to believe that journaling — along with the other things I loved when I was twelve — holds all the answers to my career questions.
I graduated in Journalism, but I quit my first internship. And not just any internship — it was the hard-to-get, shiny, “you’ll-never-have-a-chance-like-this-again” kind of internship. I resigned because I wasn’t enjoying the writing I was doing, wasn’t feeling creative, and, of course, I was naïve enough to ignore the scarcity of the job market or whatever.
See? Now I wonder — what if all I ever wanted was to jot down my thoughts and emotions out loud, as a way to process them? Maybe I was always meant to be writing this Dear Diary column you’re reading.
Or at least, I really hope so.
I wish I had known it sooner, instead of knocking on so many wrong doors.
But maybe that’s part of it.
If you don’t know who you are, the universe sends tests. Once you do your homework and get to know yourself, it sends you invitations — or at least that’s what someone told me the other day, and I chose to believe it.
On Sunday, I heated the sauna to melt old thoughts I don’t want to keep anymore.
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