Dear Blog,
I've put you in the back of my mind, figuring that when something popped into my head worthy(ha) to talk about, I'd find my way back to you again. But then quite a few days passed and...nothing. And I figured if I didn't take some initiative, you'd end up being one of my many half-finished (more like a 1/10 finished) journals I have amassed over the years, starting with my second grade diary that I started because I wanted to be like Anne Frank (and that sounds even more horrible when I see it typed out) to the dumb "lifebooks" that we were forced to fill in middle school to now where I taint pretty journals just because the idea of writing is "romantic." O dear lifebooks. I thought it was utterly stupid to be forced to write--thought it was akin to be forced to create art (though not as dramatic)--nothing could be more contradictory--though I now realize I was being utterly stupid. But what I still think was obnoxious was that we were made to decorate these journals to "express ourselves." What if I was just a blank personality and I wanted my plain marbled composition notebook to reflect that. Maybe I'm just boring. Maybe i had no interest in anything besides Q-tips and Post-its. I lost quite a few easy points because of my meek stubbornness. Tempest in a teapot? Most definitely. Anyways, sorry for not keeping in touch lately. I promise to be less MIA. Actually, not really, since I still hate writing.
See you soon,
Kristy
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