Journal - Blog Posts

It came! And it’s snowing - so it’s pretty much Christmas right now. 

A notebook shouldn’t scream. It should whisper, ‘I’m here when you’re ready.’

Tag your favorite underrated lyricist (or yourself, we don’t judge). 🎶

see design

My new diary! I bought her secondhand on Carousell. She gives such whimsical vibes (்▿்)

2000s to early 2010s Korean stationery is underrated in my opinion

I aspire to have this collection of journals when i’m older

About 200 journals/ sketchbooks from 1999-2016.

🍊my monthly journal spread for this November

🍊the theme was orange and cozy academia (haha that’s funny)

🍊lowkey inspired by rainbowholic (my idol)

Sleep...

I just want to sleep sleep forever.  drift off with the waves as they meet the shore where I lay...lie...gods i hate this language. nothing but words.  words don’t fix people. i know i shouldnt feel this way but i have been so broken down and crumpled up that i dont know how to feel otherwise.  and its all still my fault.  im still the one to blame.  Im still the one too selfish to pay attention to those around me how can I even begin to look at them and see their feelings and hurts when all I can see are mine.  standing out in such sharp relief in front of me, as if the sun was pouring through an open window behind them so that all I could see was their forms.  I can’t feel, I can’t think, I can’t hear anything in this pit.  Im sorry. Im sorry Im not strong enough on my own. i hope Hipper’s solution...

Another Journal Entry

Wicked white, even after five turns this thing is still here. Guess it’s only been a moon, proper, here, though. But I was gone for so much longer...time passed me by and no one is the wiser. I couldn’t be alone. I’d been alone for five bloody years with that maddening pixie and now that I was home...I thought I could belong again. After tonight I don’t belong anywhere again. He didn’t love me, and I couldn’t just stop. Now his...fiancé is angry with me again, Suzume won’t speak or look at me again (I don’t think she even knows what is happening, just that her Khala hates me). And Mercer... I didn’t know he saw me. I didn’t know it was killing him. He kept opening up to me. Kept making me feel safe. That’s why I loved him. It’s why I wanted to be with him. I don’t. Not now. Not anymore. I’m not part of that family. And I don’t want to be in the Tower family as long as... I will not take the oath. I thought I would. I was ready to, before Sasari returned. I don’t want to be in this family anymore. Hells...I want to go back to Eo Aenc now. At least I had fun in Il Mheg No more. I just want to be done.

1st Sun, 5th AM

Why is it, after all this time, I still hope for peace instead of violence?  That woman said it best, how can i be so naive?

Because I very nearly met the end of a blade, and it wasnt my fault.   I was hoping for peace that day too and it ended with a death.  even With her blood on my hands I know i was not fully to blame

and i know this man was evil i could see it written all over his stupid little face and in his aura   he had no remorse   I know he was sincerely scared of us all but he wasn’t apologetic, not enough to change.  But even despite that, he wasn’t armed.  His goons had fled.  He was no threat.

I fear so often that maybe we’re NOT in the right, not all the time.  How are we any different from that man, from Garlemald, from nemesis, if we’re willing to put a man to the sword with little justice except our own?   why do they think that just because we have such power that we have liberty to exercise it whenever we feel?   I was scared tonight - everyone seemed ready to murder this man.  for what reason??  he loaned money to one of ours and demanded payment back?  and when HE decided payment wasn’t enough, now we execute him?  Uldah has laws for his kind.   it’s not complete anarchy there

I hoped he’d want to live.  he made his choice, and i will not lose sleep tonight over the fact that he was cut down AFTER he tried attacking.  But I fear I will lose sleep knowing I am sleeping so close to people i consider my family because i keep seeing this side of them that is no different than the people i tried to entreat for peace before.

they took control of my mind and had me try to kill Lyta for them.   and I very nearly succeeded.

what will this “family” do to me when i oppose them again?

Another journal entry...

It’s funny, I think Kiratai told me once, the more you practice something, the easier it becomes.  It was when he was teaching me how to read and write in this tongue - and he was right.  He usually is.  The more I read, the easier it became.  The more I practiced speaking, the easier it came to me.

I haven’t spoken hingan in   kami be good, it’s been a few summers since.  The steppe was different, I could slide into my natural tongue like sliding down a cool riverbank.  Hingan was never my tongue, but I had to learn it with Aruktai.

Anzu introduced me to a visitor, a new friend.  The poor girl was struggling with eorzean     Anzu knew how to speak, and asked if I did, too.  I expected I’d have to knock off a lot of rust

It was like someone else took over.  The first ten minutes I had to concentrate on the words, really think about how to speak again, and then after that?  It was as if it hadn’t been years since I last spoke it.

I wonder, sometimes, how much truth was in Kiratai’s words, and how much that there is something different happening

The dreams have continued - the song sounding so much more desperate as it invades my mind.  Images of a barren world   bathed in light    a great pain to the dark tree I see planted in the center of my thoughts - but what does it all mean?

I need to ask someone if they know what it could mean.  Could I still be suffering from when

Doodled some banner ideas in my bullet journal :)

Finally got around to making my January spread It's not much but I like how it turned out

I had a productive day organizing and planning Can't wait for the new year

My age is, youngish, oldish? Depending on who you ask. I have time, and I don’t. The future is so far away and right outside my doorstep, and I’m just sort of here. Waiting for something to happen. Waiting to become my future self and grow out of all this childish shit. I have trouble discerning bad habits and personality traits, what grows from me isn’t all me after all. I have to take care with what I cull and what I cradle. I could become a walking quirk from middle school that I misidentified as wildly important to my sense of self and not just a random cultural reflex. What makes me myself? And how did it get there? What is genuinely me and what is grimly biding it’s time until I figure out it’s a stranger’s voice and not mine?

K so like, Sirius always wanted to be a rockstar right? He always dressed super punk and has the voice for it.

But imagine…

Regulus felt like he could never talk with people about his problems. He was always so alone and felt even lonelier.

But then he over heard from some Ravenclaw that they keep a journal to help them get all their emotions out.

He decides to do so. He writes everything he feels he can’t say. He lets his handwriting get messy, he scratches things out. Some pages are just lists or bullet points. It’s the one place he can actually be himself. The only way he can figure out who he is.

He stops feeling like he’s fading away. He has something to hold onto. He can identify his feelings and really understand them.

Soon he just has journals filled with half finished poems, song lyrics he overheard (from people like his brother who refused to turn down their music), chord progressions he can’t get over from his concertos, and now, he has full songs.

He knows who he is now. He runs away to muggle America and starts a career as a mysterious new singer who just showed up on the rock scene. Violin and guitar are basically the same instrument, right? Of course his skills will translate.

His songs are filled with anger, sadness, and pain. He writes about his family, the loss of his brother, his cousin, his uncle, and what it feels like to have everyone who you loved forget you. But he also writes about joy. For having had a brother at all, for having friends (even if they are three feet tall and hate everyone except for him), for falling in love with a boy he met in a recording studio who was saved by music just like he was.

He writes about the war and the guilt of running away instead of fighting alongside his brother. And about reconnecting with said brother after Voldemort was killed by Dumbledore (Just go with it).

He was finally happy.

And if his brother got super jealous after finding him on the cover of a magazine in the boots he used to wear, well that’s just a bonus.

I once met a guy named Alex. A very common name. But he stuck around me. I still feel his presence in a boy I meet, sometimes even in the laughter of people with undertones. His name pops on my screen as I try to connect to the wifi. Sometimes, my unwillingness to new things brings his voice back to my head: "that's what you're here for."

Alex is a common name, and we all have one. But mine beats as I go along, as much as it's corny to say. He left a dent inside my bones, so much so that I turn every time I hear his name, because he might still be here.

But at the same time. Heroes don’t deserve anything. (This is what keeps them up at night, the exhaustion hits their back, not baring to arch it any further. But it doesn’t reach their mind, and they stay up thinking if they made the right decision, if they are deserving of a person so normal, and far, far away from them–this is what keeps them up at night; loneliness, baring nostalgia of normalcy, where days are simple, pinching their skin of warm, real hands, and not the stinging pain of lifeless eyes staring back at them. This is what heroes think about at night, and there is a reason why they don’t last long).

— notes on MOORE-COVERED NARRATIVES (wip), about Yosuke.

When I split myself in the womb, my brother inherited my sanity. And I, his sarcasm.

You are born in Autumn. Somewhere in September, you are alive, in those early years where the world is growing consciousness. And every discovery is new. There are shades of yellow and green blooming everyday: your favorite colors as you grow. You are born with ambition. Raised in soft houses, and gentle words. There are beliefs you deny. You leave people. You are so many things that cannot be described. Yet, you are present in guitar riffs, conch shells, pears, yellow pouring through the window of the train. You are like James: who had an ego the size of a lake but a heart to match it. Your eyes are dipped in minerals from the very core of the earth. You were touched with goodness from your dead father and sister. You are alive. You hurt people. You leave them and you hurt them. You are the reason the air is wide.

I understood Icarus the day I fell in love.

Some pages from my journal

I make actual journal entries in my journal, too.

Journaling

I leave my journal laying open at night, hoping that the words will fly off the page

And drift out the window into the night air

And dance around the moon

I should start dreaming soon

Too many bugs flying around my world

You wouldn’t want forever

People change

And you’ve never seen my rage

I miss your calming

Smooth

Sing-song voice

You left me no choice

But to trust

And live in the exhilarating moment

And taught me that you don’t have to chase

Or try to erase

Moments

Of happiness and sadness

The magic is already there

Sparking in the air

Getting stuck in your crazy hair

That I miss more than you'd ever know

I'm stuck in negative time

While forgetting how to rhyme

Where are my feelings?

Behind my eyes

Sharp

Hidden under the weathered tarp

One day I will finish writing my story

And I’ll let the words swarm you like a tornado of bees

Or a meteor shower

A universe with all the power

And Then Goodbye

A journal

A coat hanger

And then goodbye

After six months its finally soaking into my thick skull like

Acid

Absent

Abstract metal and Boston cream doughnuts

Abandoned

Adding on to heartbreak

Awe inspiring were your

Analogies

Allergies

A notepad

A pen

A plan without me

A broken heart

An open heart

All the time

At night,

Alouette sings

Adieu, to you

The best advice for someone who wants to start journaling and/or writing is simply not to overthink it, just do it.

So my friend asked her 7 year old niece how can she be sure that her crush likes her back and her niece answered "Because we laugh together." I will be thinking about this for the rest of my life.

10 septembre 2021

je me repose sur le lit dans ma chambre. je suis à la maison de ma grand-mère, où j’habite. la grand-mère sur le côté de mon père. il a aidé mes parents m’élever depuis ma jeunesse. elle est en tout cas, comme un autre parent.

quand ma sœur et moi rations le bus pour l’école, elle nous y amenait (je viens d’utiliser « y » correctement, hein ?) si on voulait, on pouvait venir chez-elle. et maintenant, après tout le drame, je suis de retour.

c’est pas mal. j’étais très content de revenir. la vie tout seul est difficile. j’ai fait la connaissance d’une personne qui a devenue très proche à moi, et j’me suis reconnecté avec des anciens amis. je me suis tombé amoureux deux fois, plus ou moins. la vie m’a fait mal, bien sûr. sans doute. j’ai fais des drogues. j’eu eu le sexe. la vie m’a fait mal. personnes sont mortes. mais, la vie est même bonne.

en tous ces cas, il y a des moments, ou en mon cas, jours, semaines, ou je me sens trop mal. quelques jours je peux pas me lever du lit. quelquefois c’est ok. je pense que je me suis réconcilié avec mes émotions. certainement elles sont plus lourdes parfois. mais je suis même ici dans la planète. j’ai essayé de me tuer plusieurs fois. mais je suis ici. dieu ou l’univers voudrait que je suis vivant. et je vis. pas parfaitement. je fais beaucoup de choses et j’ai des opinions que je sais trop beaucoup me feront mal si j’étais trop honnêt avec des autres. j’ai appris que tout le monde n’a pas besoin de savoir tous mes pensées, mes insécurités. ils les utiliseraient pour me blesser. je l’ai appris à la dure. je ne peux pas faire tout le monde confiance. c’est just la réalité de la vie.

maintenant je me sens assez bien. je voudrais le garder cette façon. si je dois fumer quelque chose ou prendre un moment pour respoir et fermer le monde hors de moi, je le ferrai. j’ai pas autant peur comme j’avais. ai-je même peur ? ouais certainement. mais j’ai changé, lequel est le raison pour la vie, non ?

je suis optimiste. je sais pas l’avenir et ce qu’il comporte. mais j’ai du terrain stable maintenant. j’ai l’intelligence émotionnelle, dans une façon que je n’ai pas eu avant. la mort continue de me fait peur. mais je suppose c’est un message pour un autre jour!

I just started a new journal for the first time in years. Of course, I'm addressing my entries to Count Dracula.

I quote: 'let this Undead creature address her woes to a dead Undead who wouldn't care less if she was putrefying from coffin-rot (bed-rot).'

I had to find some way to amuse myself while trying to be my own therapist.

friday 25 october

some week/month planners from paperchase and a doodle i did while taking a break from maths, which was really stressing me out as i find that drawing helps calm me down when i’m worked up about something. i’ve also been journalling a short paragraph about each day every night which i’m enjoying!

A piece I did today. Today was a huge struggle.

I did an entire group project this mornig in 2 1/2 hours, sat in class and did the sketch of this piece. Voldemort was out and made all three tasks very difficult. He insisted on sitting on my finger as I typed, and then got upset with me as I had to use it to type, and of course he was attacking my pencil while I was drawing.

The screens, stress, and bird screeching gave me a headache. After lunch I immediately jumped into another class and did the ink on the piece, class ended early and so I was able to lay down for my now migraine before having to meet my group for yet another class. My alarm went off, I drug myself out of bed and turned on my light and nearly collapsed from pain. Put myself into the Zoom room for my group and sat there. Alone. For 20 minutes. Gave up on them and laid back down until the need for food pulled me up again.

Between food, water, laying down, a bath, and two rounds of pain meds, my migraine is now back down to a sharp headache. Man, I did not miss these days at all.

spring journal prompts

things to get rid of, things to gain

something you want to learn

go out and press some spring flowers, write how each makes you feel

write what each colour of the rainbow means to you

what does birdsong make you think of?

do some mental spring cleaning; dump old thought patterns that no longer serve you

set a "spring goal" for yourself

watch the sun rise, write about it

design your ideal ecosystem

what are you looking forward to?

go outside. what do you hear? how does that make you feel?