I love a nice journal, a real life paper journal that is. There is something magical about the empty pages waiting for a story to be told, something so deliciously tangible. It holds no limitations, places no expectations, it just exists for you to do with it as you will. It has a secretive element that makes it all the more alluring as the words you tell it may never be shared by another.
This feeling is so very different from blogging and I still like to put some of my words into a journal from time to time. In a recent search for some potential candidates I came across this little number that doesn’t pull its punches and made me smile at the sentiment.