I walk up to the attic and finish packing up the boxes. Boxes of all the things I've had to say, all the words I've written in journals, notebooks, in folders, or on loose papers. Boxes of words, my words, all stored up in my attic. All the things I've written for the past 20 years. All the tiny scraps of paper with one line or one thought that I
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Comments 15
I guess that is the truest time travel...and I like that.
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obviously, i love this entry.
love it.
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I really like this entry too, actually, although from the lack of comments I'm thinking not everyone totally relates to it. Or people could just be tired of replying to all these entries. It is a lot of entries, and I've got to write two more by wed at 3!
anyway i'm rambling, thanks sweetie
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This entry is beautiful.
This particular line is something I've written out in my own way many times.
While online journals are nice and reach the masses -
nothing can replace the power of pen on paper.
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I do want to say that if your life turns out at all like mine, you will close every last one of those pages that haunt you now, and all the stories will have a happy ending. Maybe not at all the ending you thought or hoped or imagined, but closure -- and peace -- on every last one.
It IS better on the other side. *big hugs*
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You captured it perfectly.
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