I always start journals or diaries (not sure what the difference is, really) and then I never keep up with them. I have so many things I could say; so many things I could write, and yet, I don’t think I’m ready to expose all of myself. I feel like I should start with “Dear…” but who do I make this ‘journal’ out to? It sounds so cliche to say, “Dear diary,” or “Dear journal.” Why write to an inanimate object?

I’ve tried paper journals and diaries before, but then I get so lost in my thoughts that my handwriting can’t keep up with my mind, and at the end of the page I never fully say what was needed to be said. My fingers type just as fast as my thoughts process.

I’m a liar. I’m a cheater. I’m a sinner. I’m not perfect. I want to confess every single thing I have ever said or done that was wrong. And yet, I want to forget those parts of me that made me such a horrible person back then. I wish I could, how do you guys say it, ‘wipe the slate clean’? There’s so many things I want to do, and yet to do half of those would cause me to lose everything I’ve worked so hard to maintain.

I don’t know who I’m more afraid of, myself or others.

So here goes nothing…

Dear me,
I’m writing everything I’m feeling because keeping these thoughts and feelings bottled up inside is destroying me while keeping everyone else from hurting. I don’t like hurting people. I don’t like having to lie, and covering up lies with more lies. What I do like is fresh beginnings, new starts, and trust. I thought about writing here last night as I lay beside my sleeping boyfriend. I wanted to get up and pour every single feeling I had into a paragraph, or page, or a sheet of paper. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’m more confused than I ever had been.
Kids lie, right? About big and small things? And sometimes the truth never comes out? Well, I’ve done that before. Pretended to be someone I wasn’t. And then I was forced into reality, lied about the mistakes I made, and if asked today, I would lie even more to cover up past lies. It doesn’t matter what exactly went down, but I regret doing it. Lies… That’s the root of all evil. I’ve lied to my best friends, I’ve lied to my boyfriend, I’ve lied to my family… I’ve told lies so much that some of them start to feel real. And I need to stop. Because lies are eating me alive. Lies are eating my soul. But if I stop today, and tell the truth from now on unless it’s a situation where a lie would be more beneficial to someone else than myself… Would that make me feel any better? Because sometimes, the truth hurts even worse than a lie does. Lies can be secretive for a long time. But the truth…once it’s out…you can’t take it back…unless you lie. So, what am I to do?

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