I’m going to try to be brief tonight because I have a more important place to be writing. Yes, more important than my precious few-months-old blog that has maybe like 10 regular readers. (Hi guys! Thanks!) Once I’m done here, I’m going to shut off my computer and write in my journal.
I’ve been majorly neglecting it for the last few months, which is unfortunate. In a couple years, when I look back at this time period, I will not be able to remember most of the smaller details of my day-to-day life. I will only know what I’ve recorded here, but so will the rest of the internet, if they care to find out.
Because of my journals, I know that approximately six years ago today I had the (really obvious and childish-sounding now) revelation that all I wanted was to be happy, I just did not know what would make me happy. Three years ago, I was writing about saying goodbye to some people in college: “That was tough, because I legitimately may not see any of them ever again.” (And, sadly, I have not seen any of those specific people since.) One year ago, I was remembering a TV movie I once saw “in which a woman scorned broke into a hotel room, found her man in bed with another woman, and shot both of them dead.” (And, I was looking forward to the Greek Food Fest, which I am also looking forward to today!)
The point is, looking back on your former self and your former life is fun. I like going back and making notes in the margins about things I know now that I did not know at the time of the entry. I also enjoy when I notice that I am far superior to my former self in some capacities. (April 30, 2006: Ran a 10-miler at 9:22 mile pace. May 1, 2011: Ran a marathon at 9:04 mile pace. Take that, Meghan Version One-Point-Slow!)
However, I wish there were a way I could set my journals to self-destruct in case anything ever happened to me. I am completely candid in my journals, since I expect that no one else will ever read them. Let this blog post stand as my last will and testament: If I ever kick the bucket, dump my journals and don’t look at them, or else my spirit will be as angry as Joey Potter was when Dawson read her diary.