I was going through one of my many journals I keep on and around me at all times and I stumbled upon some old entries I thought were interesting. A part of me wants to post them, and another, not to. I'm too afraid to post them, because I'm afraid someone will take credit for my words. The courageous and optimistic side of me tells me I should go for it and maybe, just maybe, someone important might read it and decide that I'm something worth reading. (I right poetry mostly, and that's what I'm debating with myself on posting). Okay, decision made, I'm not going to post a poem yet, but I will post this entry I wrote a while back, so here we go. (With original grammar, spelling, etc. so please ignore all the grammatically incorrect-ness of it):
"DAY ONE: (December 28, 2009)
I'm making it a priority that I write in this book everyday. If not everyday, as many times as possible; I'm trying something new. I have a total of 8 journals, none of which I've done what I've said I would. I am going to start with this journal, journal #4. This is one of the last journals I bought and I must say, it's one of my favorites. Besides that, I am on a journey. A journey finding the values of life, the important things that put constant questions in my head. I think that I might possibly be crazy, who knows? I just know, that there aren't many people like me, and if there were, would or do they think the same way I do? See life the same way I do? I don't know, and that's the problem, the reason why I'm going on this journey. I want to be changed. But more than anything else, I want to be loved. Not loved for what I do, or can do. NOT loved for what I say, just for who I am.My request is not one of simple answers or obvious revelations. I want more, I need more, I deserve more. I question who I am and who I should become, and I end up with no answers. I guess you can say, I'm at a crossroads. NO, not even that, I'm trapped in a book with no words, fighting to fill it with the blood from my heart, letting it spill and penetrate the pages just to let myself bleed out the endless possibilities of my life. Because, like I said, I'm not like other people, and I don't think the same way other people think." -Kendolyn M. Murray (me)
