Who is Your Journal?
My journal is the light that omits itself through the dark patches of my concealed life. The only thing that lets people know what is really going on with me. Usually I act like everything is perfectly fine, that I am 100 percent great all of the time. But my journal portrays the lies, the deceit, the hurt, the past, the present, the future, my true life that I keep hidden. My journal is 100 percent true. It’s my emotions, my feelings, my thoughts, my words. My heart and time is put into it. Friends can come and go, but nothing can compare to having the story in writing, and looking back on it in many years and remembering every single moment in time. .. I remember I used to keep an array of journals, starting all the way from Kindergarten to 7th grade. After my mom reading one, (a 7th grade journal, during my time of the early stages of puberty, where I would write about boys and flirting and wants of kissing,) I was utterly embarrassed and I threw all of my past journals away. I wish I hadn't. So many memories could have been recollected. I would have been able to see my transformations, with writing style, with the way I talk, how I treated people, my outlook on life, and my life day by day, how I changed year after year. Throwing my past journals away, would be one of my biggest regrets. Stories change, rumors spread, just as a simple game of a child’s game of “Whisper Down the Lane” or “Telephone” But to have everything in hand; from what really happened, or a dream you've had that you don’t want to forget, goals you set for yourself, funny jokes you heard, or creative thoughts and random entries – I feel that it all goes away in time, resulting in a lost memory. For instance walking into a room and completely forgetting what you came there for. If you don’t have it written down, after a while of constant procrastination and the craziness of life, the thought , the plan, the goal, the idea, the entry just vanishes. My journal is my soon to be vanished thoughts that I will look back on and remember, and be glad that I wrote them down in the first place. It may even inspire me in the future. My journal… can possibly save me or lend a helping hand in the future. My Journal is Me. Before, Now, and Then.
Take a long, hard look in the mirror, what do you see?
Looking at my reflection, through my bad eyes, I see a blurred vision of an African American girl with full lips, big crazy curly locks, spray painted purple. I see curly eyebrows that she pays more than occasionally to be redone. Along with a small nose, small ears small eyes with small eyelashes she doesn't enjoy. With brown colored skin, she is aware of her past. Not just of a 5th grade talent show or a 2nd grade class trip, but her ancestor’s and what they have done to fight for her future right now. She is thankful. I am thankful. I see my clavicle bones, sticking out of my chest. I pick at how skinny I am and how much I want to gain weight. I know my self-worth. The scars on my face represent my own insecurities that I cover up. I see myself with a collar shirt, a big pullover, chained collar tips and a twirling skirt. I see a girl with a style of her own. Who fights to be different, to not blend in. I see a person with a future in her life. As the set goals, both long term and short term, surround the mirror, it reminds me day by day, step by step that nothing comes easy and I will always have to work harder. When I look in the mirror, I see myself, my progress, and my steps to accomplish my goals.
My Life Would Take a Turn for the worst, if;
My mother died. My mom has done a lot for us to be where we are at now. Growing up, my dad hadn't played a huge role in my life. My parents we’re already divorced before I was born, if I can recall, I think I was during my mom’s pregnancy with me. Sometimes I feel like it was my fault. Not entirely, but I know they had their own problems, but I feel like I was the one thing that pushed them over the cliff. Though they were divorced, they stayed together for child support and a good outlook for the family. Before, in the early 2000’s we lived in the projects and different areas of Brooklyn, NY with my parents. With much fighting going on between both parents and a lack of space, my mom, my sisters and I moved to Pennsylvania when I was around 6 or 7 years old. My dad wasn't living with us; he continued to live in Brooklyn, coming to visit every other week. The whole 4 years I was in Pennsylvania, my mom had to do it all alone. She made sure she fought to get us into a private school and was there to cook dinner, pack lunches, attend school events, pick us up after extracurricular activities, pay the mortgage, etc; all while working double shifts and attending nursing school to get her degree to become a LPN. My mom always supported what we did, and made sure we were a family, in religion/faith, in outlook, etc. My life would change drastically if she was gone. Though I am currently living with my dad in New York, if my mother were to die, He would leave as well. The bills would be too high for one person’s sake, and the house would have to be taken by the government. Most likely they would put me and my sister Marsha in Foster care. So much would happen with just that idea alone. I hope that my mother lives to see me graduate college, get married, and have kids. I couldn't bear the thought of her leaving our family now at this time, at my age.