So, my old campus councilor told me to write down what I feel on a piece of paper. Back then I was more interested in dropping out of school and spending my days inside four walls listening to my own breathing sound. But now I’m back in school, finals are almost over and I’m still here. So, I’m talking to you, the interwebz.
We all have two stories, I truly believe that. There’s the story you show the world, your friends and your parents. This can include things like your dog’s name, your plans for the future or when your sisters birthday is, in other words the superficial cloth we all wear. Off course some wear a thicker cloth than others and I’m not saying that everybody lives a plastic lie, I’m not that cynical. But everybody has something underneath they don’t want the rest of the world to see. Two stories, two diaries. Or as I like to call it, two notebooks.
My pretty notebook is a white hard-covered book with pink and white swirls on that I got for Christmas some years ago. This is the one I write drafts in for assignments, sketches for when a friend wants me to draw her a tattoo or paint her a picture. Heck, I even think it has old supply lists and food recopies and to do lists. The other notebook is a worn out one covered in markers and cut outs of pictures and quotes. Inside there is no order or system. I write what I feel, when I feel like it. It features random stuff like my monthly reading list, what to do before I die, why college might not be for me and well all the disturbed personal crap of a daily doll face life. But it’s after midnight, I’ve had a few glasses of the finest cheap wine (red, although I must say I prefer white), and I’m ready to show my other notebook to the world wide web. After that, who knows? Maybe I’ll get some fancy education and publish my own book like Elizabeth Wurtzel. Yeah that sounded stupid in my head to. But I’ll see where this takes me, I mean everybody else is doing it, right? As for now, I am signing off in hopes of sleeping within the next hour or two.