Dear Legs

I’m a journaler.

Woah, I guess according to spell check, journaler isn’t actually a word. Oh well, today’s a live on the edge kind of day.

Pausing to reflect and write down my thoughts (or  about my most recent crush which was an embarrassingly common occurrence during my teenage years) is something I’ve been doing on and off since high school. I recently pulled out one of my first journals and man, reading some of that stuff was a whole new level of funny, but moving on…

journal

I tend to live the majority of my days at a much faster pace than I probably should. I guess I’ve come to realize that when I take the time to stop and really consider those little moments (or those big moments) by journaling, it helps. It helps me process. It helps me to calm down and work through tough situations. It helps me to keep things in perspective. It’s also super quaint and picturesque to sit with a cup of coffee, pen and paper and just write (You know, that thing you were taught to do back in elementary school).

My journal “entries” don’t usually have any sort of format. They’re more of a stream of consciousness, rambling about whatever comes into my head sentence conglomeration. Recently, a blog of a friend of mine posted about this self-love journal letter challenge. In essence, you write a letter each day to a particular entity. For example, dear younger me, dear first love, dear hunger, dear mornings…you  know, that kind of thing. Continue reading