pondering thoughts of journalish stuff. . . . . . . . .
I feel like I don't use this journal to my advantage. I mean I do . . . sometimes . . . on and off. But I mean realistically speaking I could really get a lot off my chest in here. I think I think too much about the fact that other people read my journal so I can't express as much as I would if I new I had no readers. Hmmm . . . interesting. I mean I write in this more than I do my actual journal. Which sucks in a way b/c I love hand written stuff. I feel like it has so much more meaning or feeling. I don't know. Anyway, I'm moving again and I'm cleaning through everything and throwing all the CRAP out. I found a bunch of my journals that are only half written in. Funny how I jump around to different journals. I need to just write in ONE JOURNAL. When I die people are gonna have a fun time putting those together. Oh Wait, they won't put them together, they only do that w/famous people.