So according to my diary no. 1, I wrote my first ever journal entry on this day 20 years ago at 7.52 pm. I was eleven then.
A lot has happened during those 20 years. For one thing, I was a child when I started journaling, and for almost two years, my entries are clearly those of a kid. Then I started to enter adolescence and the nature of the things I wrote about changed dramatically. I wrote about almost nothing else but my crushes, and some of the stuff I wrote then makes me cringe today. Every time I wrote on something else, though, I am pleased to report that I show all the signs of being intelligent and a person who liked to make up her own mind. Eventually I turned into something resembling an adult, and I think it is fair to say that there was a time when I behaved more like an adult than I do today. The entries from this time are a little boring, though.
And yet, on February 16 1989, at the ripe old age of 13 and almost three quarters, when boys were on top of my list of topics to write about, I wrote an entry about why I keep a journal, which ends with these words: “I keep a journal because I want to be able to revisit my feelings today in 10 years time and because I want to know what I thought on all sorts of things then, too.”
Well, I don’t have anything to add to that.
The others say