When I was little there was this period when I used to write in my diary every single day. Just a couple of sentences usually, sometimes only one. “Today we did arts and crafts and we made seals out of paper” comes to mind as an example. Just one little line, but apparently it was the highlight of my day. I filled up an entire notebook, which I’d gotten as a gift from my aunt, with entries like that.
I never was that consistent again when it came to writing in my diary. I used to get all motivated and buy myself a pretty new notebook, usually after watching Bridget Jones’ Diary. But after a few days I got tired of writing daily, so it became once a week, then once a month, once every couple of months… And then when that familiar surge of motivation reared its head again, I wanted to buy a new notebook to start over. You know, fresh start and all that. As a result, I have tons of only halfway filled notebooks at my parents’ house.
It always made me feel a little guilty, whenever I abandoned another diary, because it is so much fun to read through old diaries, see what I was up to back then, remember how I felt.
Then, back when I wasn’t doing all too well in 2013, I started to write more frequently and realised it was quite comforting to write about everything that bothered me. So I made a plan. In 2014, I was going to write in my diary every single day. This time, I was actually going to do it because this time, it was different (which was what I told myself everytime, but let’s forget about that for a second).
And guess what? I did it!