Words I have meticulously etched into the front cover of every journal I've kept since the 5th grade. The sentiment is still true. . . where do we begin? How do we pick up where we left off? As if journals were meant to be read at some point by someone other than ourselves. . . so that other people remember us accurately? But really, a journal serves to help us remember ourselves correctly and to remind ourselves who we are, where we've been, and where we're going.
(Can this preamble serve as an excuse for the ramblings that are sure to follow??) For anyone who has haplessly stumbled across this blog, forgive me! I don't even know where this journey will take you . . . or me for that matter! Read at your own risk, dear browser. . . these are the confessions of a broken (mangled?) heart.
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