I’ve always been bad at keeping journals. I think it takes a special kind of person to do it, someone with really good commitment. One of my best friends in high school was great with keeping diaries. She’d write long entries every day, detailing her thoughts and feelings. I always wished I’d done that so I could look back on now forgotten memories, but unfortunately my commitment needs work. My friend was the first of us to get married. Coincidence? Maybe…
Writing has always been a way for me to channel my thoughts and feelings. I usually wrote stories, though, not journal entries. Looking back over my works I can tell what kind of a mood I was in at the time of writing. If the main character had her heart broken I was probably angry or upset. If she got her first kiss I was in a good mood. It might have been unfair of me to take my mood swings out on these characters, but somehow it helped. It allowed me to think situations through, to analyse them in a way. I could change what had happened in the story, even if I couldn’t in real life, and that gave me some comfort. For a time I could become someone flawless and strong who said and did all the right things.
As I got older my characters became more real. I still used them to escape, but they were no longer the smartest, most beautiful, most skilled character. They had flaws, they ran from their problems, they hurt people. But everything was resolved in the end, no endings were left unfinished, no ends left un-tucked. I channeled my spirit into them, but I was still able to fix things. I can’t do that in real life. Sometimes I wish I could, but things just aren’t as clear cut as I wrote them to be.
I’ve had a lot of beginnings and endings in my life. Some of them good, some of them bad, some of them yet to come. I like beginnings, but I’m not too fussed on endings. Recently a relationship of mine ended. I cried a lot and vowed never to let myself fall in love again, telling myself the pain wasn’t worth it. But it was. It hurts, even now. But we had a great time together. We loved each other as hard as we could, we gave each other a part of ourselves, we grew together. It ended with tears and heartbreak, but with the promise of friendship. It will take time for us to heal and find a place where we can begin a friendship together. It was the end of something and the beginning of something. I really hate endings. But I really do like beginnings.