Free the Three of Me

It’s scary. To think anyone but me someday read this. Scary to think that someday all of my deepest, darkest, and happiest thoughts might be read by somebody other than me. That all of these thoughts that glide onto paper by way of blank ink pen could reveal the purest and rawest form of me. By any random chance that some random stranger could pick up this journal, or even someone close to me could pick up this notebook, and with complete ease, know who I am. What’s scarier is writing in this journal when I’m anywhere other than my room. I bring this journal everywhere I go in case I need to unload my thoughts, and feelings. In order for anxiety to not take over me, I write in this journal. Writing is my form of therapy. It saves me from anxiety attacks and overthinking myself into oblivion. If someone does by chance read this, know that this is all it is, therapy. The abundance of words that flow through these pages is private.