I kept a diary when I was a young gal, but only would write in it occasionally, and usually it looked something like this:
But then, when I was in junior high school, I read Anne Frank's diary. And of course, the magnitude of her situation and the greatness of her diary impacted me. I was in awe of Anne Frank. I knew her story, and I knew her family and those living with her, and I knew the people that were taking care of her. I knew that I loved Anne Frank and her family. She made me to know and love them because of her diary, that monument to history. To this day, I love Anne Frank and her family.
So she inspired me to write a diary. I was not Anne Frank. I could not be Anne Frank; I had not endured suffering such as she endured. But that did not stop me from unleashing my thirteen year old heart onto the pages of those diaries with the clasps that didn't lock and the gaudy covers. And I continued to write for a little while.
There was a cycle that occurred with my diaries. I would write consistently for a period, and then I would quit. And then I would pick it back up again. However, also in that cycle, I would inevitably go back after a long period of time and re-read my old journals. And I would always think, "ugh, me, what were you thinking? That's so silly and dumb. I need to get rid of these before anyone else ever sees them and sees how dumb I am."
And I would throw them away.
This is a portrayal of 15 year old Carolyn throwing away a diary that she wrote in when she was younger because she cared too much what all the people who would never read her diary would think if they did actually read it. I really needed to learn a thing or two about personal style when I was 15.
I did that multiple times, all because I either was annoyed at myself for what I had written in the past, or I was embarrassed by how silly I had seemed. I would think that my diary entries had been silly and dramatic, or boring and pointless. And I did not see the value in them, and I never wanted anyone else to read them. So I would just throw them into the trash.
Now that I am older, I really wish I could judge the quality of those diary entries with fresh eyes. I have changed so much, and it would be so interesting to go back and read them. Not that I was particularly interesting (I really was not). But it would just be interesting to go back and review my life as I viewed it then, and see how I have changed (or stayed the same, oh my).
I find myself doing the same kind of thing with my blog. Fairly recently, I went through and deleted some old posts I had written because I didn't like them anymore. I had to stop myself from deleting a lot (like all) of my old posts, and tell myself that it's okay that it's a silly post without much purpose. Who knows, though. Maybe soon you'll come to my blog and all my old posts will be deleted. Gone. Poof. Deleted.
Now this blog is not a diary. It's about my thoughts and experiences, sure. I might dance around some life issues that I am experiencing, or write about my thoughts, or announce great news (such as that my thesis committee approved my thesis today at my defense!), but that's about it. I only write about it on here if it is something I think is good to share with the general public, especially since most of the general public that reads this already knows me. No one is going to read about the details and problems in my personal life, etc. Those kinds of things are fit for an actual diary, and not for this particular blog. And hey, y'all with the crazy statuses and updates, not fit for social media, either.
