Outlet

I remember the first time that writing freed me.

I was in 6th grade. I had glasses, braces and not a whole lot of self esteem. In just a few short months I was going to go from being in a class of 11 to a class of 120. We were going to jump out of the small pond that was our local school to the regional middle/ high school, miles away.

I didn't realize how much I had built up my feelings about all that was going on around me, until I got my hands on a spare notebook at home. On a whim, I just started writing whatever came to mind- even if they were mean, hateful things. Once I started, I couldn't stop, and with every word I felt relief. In this private notebook, I could say what I felt about anyone and anything.

I could get it out of my system.

I did just that, for months. I took that notebook everywhere, even on car rides. Sometimes I even included illustrations. I wrote and wrote. It was soon after that I began journaling, which I did right up until college.

I found that once I met the love of my life, the one I could tell anything to, I didn't feel a need to write so much. I found that once I met genuine friends, ones that related to me on things I didn't think possible, I didn't feel the need to journal.

I've been writing, again, for seven months now on this blog. This time, not to free me as much as document. I want to formulate, into the written word, thoughts that pass through my mind.

I remember the first time writing freed me. I had found an outlet. It feels good to be plugged into it once again.