Dani Schwartz
Writer '19
To avoid a complete freak out at the next person I see, I explode onto the words written deep between the covers of my journal. Each night, a flow of my feelings is scrawled in scribbles, pictures, and words. I never feel alone, because I know I always have someone to talk to. And this is the other side of me, the one that wants to get everything out, and my journal allows for that. Finally, a place for writing freedom.
It all started with a blue notebook, with little hearts, bursting with color, lined the black margins. At first opening, I was skeptical, afraid to pour my heart out because I was scared to see what I would say. My fears controlled me at the time, with so many “what ifs” clouding my mind and taking over. I was continuously pushed by my mom to write, and if I could go back to the first day I opened that journal, I would do it all so differently. I would write that day. I would write about what happened, what inspired me, and what I wanted to change. But, I wimped out. I went against what I needed to do. I was a stubborn 12 year old, who thought I knew everything. Turns out, I really knew nothing.
To answer the question presented, yes, I keep a journal. I am just finishing my second notebook. And in my world of writing, I am able to get everything I need to out. I am a happier person. I am a smarter person. I am less aggressive because I get out my anger as my pen swirls across the pages, filled up with the dark blue ink until there is no space left.
I wrote about the stupid fights, the hard tests, and the awful days. Soon, I started writing about my dreams, when I was comfortable enough to share my deepest inner workings with the pages. My ideas reflected back at me and these thoughts became real. The ideas were no longer just bubbles that popped and floated around my head, they were concrete. That's what infrared the most. I feared that I would be ashamed of myself as words were poured out day by day, week by week, month by month. Every moment since seventh grade has been recorded. Since then, I am no longer afraid to open up, because I do it everyday. My words are my way to open up. That is my way to express myself. Keeping a journal has allowed me to overcome my fears. Writing them down, thinking them out, and discovering the solution. Writing has allowed me to do this. My journal has set me free. I am now free of the controls that were forced upon me, weighing me down. When I feel a push on my shoulders, it is written about. And, the weight is lifted. My best advice for whoever this concerns is to write. Get a journal, now. It won't be the worst decision you have made- it will be the best one.
Writer '19
To avoid a complete freak out at the next person I see, I explode onto the words written deep between the covers of my journal. Each night, a flow of my feelings is scrawled in scribbles, pictures, and words. I never feel alone, because I know I always have someone to talk to. And this is the other side of me, the one that wants to get everything out, and my journal allows for that. Finally, a place for writing freedom.
It all started with a blue notebook, with little hearts, bursting with color, lined the black margins. At first opening, I was skeptical, afraid to pour my heart out because I was scared to see what I would say. My fears controlled me at the time, with so many “what ifs” clouding my mind and taking over. I was continuously pushed by my mom to write, and if I could go back to the first day I opened that journal, I would do it all so differently. I would write that day. I would write about what happened, what inspired me, and what I wanted to change. But, I wimped out. I went against what I needed to do. I was a stubborn 12 year old, who thought I knew everything. Turns out, I really knew nothing.
To answer the question presented, yes, I keep a journal. I am just finishing my second notebook. And in my world of writing, I am able to get everything I need to out. I am a happier person. I am a smarter person. I am less aggressive because I get out my anger as my pen swirls across the pages, filled up with the dark blue ink until there is no space left.
I wrote about the stupid fights, the hard tests, and the awful days. Soon, I started writing about my dreams, when I was comfortable enough to share my deepest inner workings with the pages. My ideas reflected back at me and these thoughts became real. The ideas were no longer just bubbles that popped and floated around my head, they were concrete. That's what infrared the most. I feared that I would be ashamed of myself as words were poured out day by day, week by week, month by month. Every moment since seventh grade has been recorded. Since then, I am no longer afraid to open up, because I do it everyday. My words are my way to open up. That is my way to express myself. Keeping a journal has allowed me to overcome my fears. Writing them down, thinking them out, and discovering the solution. Writing has allowed me to do this. My journal has set me free. I am now free of the controls that were forced upon me, weighing me down. When I feel a push on my shoulders, it is written about. And, the weight is lifted. My best advice for whoever this concerns is to write. Get a journal, now. It won't be the worst decision you have made- it will be the best one.