Hot tears streamed down my pouty, cherub face as I tried to decipher a picture book in my first grade classroom. The story of the spotted dog is still a mystery to this day, although its face materializes clearly in my memory bank. I remember having a hard time learning to read as a child. My mother, most likely noticing this, took me to the library often and encouraged me wholeheartedly to enjoy any book I desired. She instilled in me a love and appreciation for the written word. The child that secretly tore books apart in frustration presently reads constantly as a young adult.
Reading is my hobby, but writing will always be my passion. Diaries with loose spines and dog eared pages are hidden here and there all over my room. A diary exists from every chapter of my life. The good, the bad, and the depressingly ugly are categorized into countless daily records; I’ve logged my entire evolution onto lined paper.
In short, this is my answer to all those that ask “Why did you start a blog?” It isn’t for recognition or attention. It isn’t for comments or likes. This is my diary. It’s 2016 and about damn time to go paperless.