My journal is my life. Every page of the journal I fill with color or ink describes me, my life, my messed up head. Every pattern or every sketch drawn in that journal portray my experiences throughout. It is that one thing apart from a novel that I carry with me always, with a black pen attached to it.
Every travel story I write about, every quotation I scribble in it, every sketch I sketch there describes how I see the world, how I feel on the inside.
Would I like a human version of my journal? YES! Someone I can tell everything and everything from the very starting to its very end. A human version of my journal whom I can tell my lame stories to crack jokes with, tell about my little adventure stories with the same comfort and warmth I feel when I write all about everything in my journal.
There’s a lot of turmoil inside and I survive it with the help of my journal, my playlists and my beloved books. And to have a human version of a journal who could speak back to me, listen to me, appreciate my inperfect journal entries and give that calming and warm feeling just like the way writing in a real journal gives would be priceless.
And I mean…
Isn’t this the exact journal like quality one looks for in their “to be” better halves? I guess so.
Piece of advice? Find someone who fits the human journal concept.
Until next time.