A record of memories

"I want love- to love and be loved- but I don't dare go searching for it."

I love to journal. I have mountains of notebooks from days gone by. I stopped writing in them for some time, mostly after my Nan passed away. She had journals full of her inner most thoughts. Thoughts that make me cry and thoughts that horrify me. When my family went through her journals after her funeral, they realized she must have been sick longer than we had thought. {She had Alzheimers}. In a way, that is what I fear. That if anyone read my journals after I'm gone, or even now, they'd think I'm crazy or strange. Although, I am quite strange. All that aside, there is something about writing down our thoughts and recording them on paper. Sometimes I'll go back and reread things and the memories awake. Memories that I have pushed to the back of my mind. Memories cealed behind a little door that I never enter. Recently, I have began to journal once more. I think it's healthy. I discover new things about myself when I just let the pen do it's work.

{Dan Photography}