By: Madisyn Zipper

Reasons to write through life

Dear Diary,

Don’t worry, I’m only joking. (Really, it’s a joke. If you do plan to begin journal entries like this, then I’d like to congratulate you for turning 12 last weekend, but you shouldn’t be allowed on the Internet.)

Keeping a journal may seem juvenile, but there’s something extremely special about documenting the yesterdays. It doesn’t have to be a “what I had for dinner” everyday account (this isn’t Weight Watchers), but as a self-proclaimed master at forgetting almost every beacon of information directly after it’s handed to me, those jotted down memories are pretty much all I’ve got.

Oh, not everyone is as tragically forgetful as I am? Fine, but looking back at old entries evokes a priceless array of emotions; as I read I feel exactly what I felt when my fingers were clutching that pen, and I can almost taste the coffee I was drinking as I scribbled across the wrinkled pages.

Not a sentimental freak slash emotion hoarder? That’s probably for the better, but it’s also a great way to account for the weirdest of dreams. Whether the plan is to go back later and analyze the psychological mechanics of why a school administrator asked me to babysit or I just want a reason to laugh, reading last year’s dreams always reminds me not to eat any pizza before bed.

If nothing else, a diary is a companion to help get through times of misunderstanding and loneliness. Maybe everyone is tired of hearing about your problems, but your moleskin, without having the ability to talk, is completely helpless in this equation.

To end on a light note, these old entries remind me of how lame I once was, and I really appreciate being able to gauge my maturity growth throughout high school while making fun of spelling mistakes, and the situations I clasified as “the end of the world”.