My very first diary was given to me in 1991. I was 8 years old.
Somehow, through the years, I managed to hold onto it. Not only that, but it's in dang near perfect condition over 20 years later.
I generally forget that I have it. Tonight, however, I found it beside a stack of games I have stored high up on a shelf.
I decided to open it up and read it. It's amazing to look back and see the hand writing of a little girl in elementary school, and the things I thought important enough to pen for future memories.
Here's my first ever diary entry:
It's so simplistic. No stresses or worries. No fears. Just simple daily joys. Such innocence and silly grammar.
I kept journals off and on through high school and college, as well as online ifs for the last 13 or so years as well.
Life has become much more complicated since then, of course. My pen and paper journals are stored away in a box somewhere, as I used to dream someday I would have children, and hopefully a daughter that loved to journal, and I could leave my thoughts, fears, joys, wishes, and dreams on paper to them. They would get a chance to know a younger version of the "old lady" that raised them.
It was fun and refreshing to read through my diary, even if it was only a few entries, not a full book worth.