I keep with me a journal,
Nothing fancy,
Nothing special,
It serves as a safe place,
Away from judgemental and prying eyes,
In it I process my emotions,
Vent about ongoing events,
And catalogue my history,
It’s nothing much now,
Only a hundred pages or so,
Telling a small sliver of my life’s story,
Over time it’ll continue to grow,
Telling more and more of my story,
I look forward to the day my future self reads that journal,
Allowing me to peer into my distant past,
And seeing how far I have come