Sniffle Sniffle.Bleurgh.Sniff.Wahhhh.Ugh.Sigh.

Today I finished the journal I've had from the summer of 2011 till today. Although I generally keep like, 10 different notebooks at a time, I always have one central place where I write MY DEEPEST, DARKEST SECRETS and TRIUMPHS. 

I got this journal on a trip when I was 12, just on the brink of being 13. It was in a Wal-Mart we stopped at, and I had been searching for my ~DREAMBOAT JOURNAL~ since I had finished my last one that May. It was rad: pink stripes on the cover. 400 pages or something. I saw potential: potential decorations, potential feelings, potential writing genius (at this time in my life, I hoped my journal would sound like Anne Frank and Sylvia Plath. NEWS FLASH! I'm not that genius. It probably sounds more like a budding teenager who tried to be like, really intelligent and stuff but more sounded like a pretentious 13-year-old.)

I kept writing in it from the days of our trip until now. When you've had something that you've expressed all your anger and happiness and sad, sad tears in, finishing it is like having a friend move away or watching the last Harry Potter movie for the 100th time (don't even come near me after that happens).

When I was 12, I loved really old black and white movies. I had been, for many years, heavily obsessed (still am) with '80s movies, and my deep love for vintage clothing had started to really blossom a year or so before. The Beatles were my life, I loved being right in every argument, I loved learning new words, and I didn't even HAVE a Tumblr.

I can't even remember WHEN I collaged this, which much means it was forever ago! It reflected my favorite things at the time: The Beatles (especially "All My Loving"), vintage stuff, Johnny Depp, Sylvia Plath. This really cool vintage shoe was once glued on there, but it tore off and then I lost it. This whole cover has been torn and re-glued a million times,  A TRUE SIGN OF LOVE.

Twelve, thirteen, and fourteen are all funny ages. When you're pissed off, or feeling really down, or blissfully happy, or super lonely, you feel like there will, never, ever, ever be another moment where you'll feel any different. Life seems like it will always be the same feeling, the same story. As I've learned, life ebbs and flows: one day, you'll love early Beatles' music, and the next you'll be experimenting with the sounds of Grimes. Looking over this journal, I've learned that. Sometimes, I'll read about a petty situation that ruined my whole day and think of how stupid it is. Other times, I'll read about a time when I was in a pit of sadness and never thought I would ever get out and realize: life changes, all the time.

Holdin' on to my baby <3

When you've been through so much, so many hurts and great moments with something, it's especially important for you. The end of you two together, of that whole part of your life is especially hard.

That being said, I.HATE.ENDINGS. Whether it's Harry Potter, or the last performance of the play I'm in, or  the end of a movie, or the end of a journal, I will almost always bawl my eyes out at endings. I have a spiritual connection to my favorite movies, my past experiences. The endings of them, even if I can watch that moment on my TV screen again and again, is like the ending of my world. Change has always been something that's hard for me, but my journal has taught me I'm allowed to change.

I'm just starting to decorate this Bette Page journal I got for Christmas from Zazzle. I just put the best gold tinsel on it! UGH, SPARKLES!

I went on a bike ride today, and there were birds chirping and blinding sunlight streaming onto the pavement of the road. It was perfect; it was a dawning. It almost felt like the world speaking to me. Even though this is the end of something, it's the beginning of something new, it seemed to say. As I've learned from my own journal, life is an ever changing, ever moving tide, and this is just a part of it.

xoxo

Psychedelic Daisy