Reading old journals

Reading old journals is one of my favorite things to do. I've been journaling fairly regularly since I was pretty young. I used to read those Dear America books. They were diaries by fictional people who either witnessed or were apart of important historical events or times, and they took up a good chunk of my bookshelf. Because of these books, I journaled prolifically for a time. Also because of these books, I was pretty convinced that one of those journals was going to get published one day, thus I titled them and addressed them to a great audience. Needless to say, they're pretty hilarious. From detailed accounts of how "madly in love" I was with a boy from my class to ramblings that demonstrate to current me that former me was pretty convinced she was going to marry Jake Gyllenhaal, these journals depict me at my finest. Or my worst, depending on how you look at it. There's a lot of teen angst going on in some of the later journals. Eesh. Regardless of how embarrassing these journals are, they are important for me to re-read every so often. They remind me who I was and how far I've come. They show me how much I've grown up, something I may not realize through my day-to-day interactions and thoughts, but that is blatantly obvious when muddling through barely-legible handwritten entries about how freaked out I was about starting college.
My sister insists she's glad she never kept journals because re-reading them would be painfully awkward and embarrassing. I, however, am glad I kept such a detailed record of my life. My past triumphs, failures, worries, and bliss are all at my fingertips. I like that I can refer to events of my past and use these journals as markers of my life, letting me see who I was, who I am, and how far I've come. Good work, past Hallie. Despite your pessimistic predictions, you certainly managed to do something right.

Three of the most recent offenders. Yes, the middle one has the Cat in the Hat on it. Classy.