It's probably about time...

Honestly, anyone who knows me even a little bit has probably seen the stacks of journals in my room that I have been filling with my random musings since I purchased my first one in middle school. What started as the playful, innocent, and naive thoughts of a thorougly confused 13-year-old are now compared to the deep, mature, contemplative, and downright way too serious thoughts of a seemingly just as confused 23-year old. I am a writer at heart, not always a good one, but it has always seemed like the easiest way for me to express my emotions. However, I am one of those stubborn writers who likes to think that my thoughts are private...until now I guess. Do I assume that anyone wants to read my thoughts on life? No...but I figure that if I can keep myself entertained by what I write, maybe someone else will get a laugh or two as well. Writing is therapeutic for me and I can only hope that my thoughts and experiences can help someone else, even if that just means bringing a smile to their face because they realized that an incident in my life made their life seem a whole hell of a lot better.