I opened my journal and found myself at a loss for words, or even thoughts that I think are meaningful to record down on paper. So before I even write, I am already judging myself for being unworthy.

Writing for me has always been my way of processing my thoughts, finding insights to my actions and to the world at large. Words come to my fingers as I write, seemingly without conscious thought. Is that how everyone writes? I wonder.

So I try to journal everyday. I know it’s like a muscle that I need to exert daily, otherwise it is quick to atrophy. When I get lazy and my entries become shorter and shorter, I start to worry that I’m getting shallow mentally as well, or is it torpor? Is my life so uninteresting that I don’t have anything worthwhile to share? But I stop this line of thinking before it makes me start feeling bad. If one person could relate and find hope in what I share, that is enough reason to do it.