Maybe some things are meant to stay
I tried to let it go, but I kept asking myself why. Why do I have to let my habit of writing go, when my journals have always been there for me, stacking up over the years like companions that never really asked for anything in return? They were filled with random thoughts, small feelings, and things I didn’t know how to say out loud, and somehow, that was enough. Then at some point, I got into this idea of becoming more minimal. It felt like the right thing to do, like I was supposed to let go of things I didn’t need anymore. So I told myself it was time to move on, to become someone who doesn’t hold onto things, someone who can clear everything and start fresh. And I did. Page by page, memory by memory, I let it all go. For a while, it felt like I was doing something right. But somehow, writing kept finding its way back to me. It showed up in small ways, like when I passed by a stationery section, or when I walked into a store just to look and ended up leaving with another journal ...