Just kidding I can't read my old journals haha. They're too cringey. I journaled from age probably 10-22, and have piles of beautiful notebooks with fairies or moons or plain moleskin (depending on my current state and who I currently wished to be) in a tupperware box in the basement. Tales of death and family grieving, much dieting/orthorexia, crushes and boyfriends, sin and guilt, and a secret quiet longing for something more. I feel for that little girl in them, deeply. Yet, I like my adult brain much better. I think the trade of aging and time is each day you get to become more and more YOU, unobstructed and unashamed. It's truly a privilege to live this life. Getting older is the best gift I could ever ask for. It's all brought me here, counting my blessings to have a job I love, family I'm obsessed with, and friends that love me unconditionally. I love being alive so much. I love you! xoxo H