I have a small journal at home,
its cover has swirls, blue and green.
It contains a year in the life
of a young girl just turning fifteen.
It had a lock that's now broken,
the key disappeared long ago.
It's crammed with things I once cherished,
my memories recall why that's so.
Pictures of movie star idols,
a lock of my mom's soft brown hair,
flowers from my father's grave site,
I needed to have them placed there.
But it's the thoughts in those pages,
that've been fun to read through the years.
The plans that were made and discarded,
the crushes, the laughter, the tears.
It makes me smile to read it,
just what was I thinking back then?
It's fun to read about family,
recall what it was like back when.
Don't get me wrong, there were tough times.
School troubles, no friends, way too shy.
The heartbreak and anguish from losing...
my dad, far too soon for goodbye.
O.C.D started right after,
each page filled from bottom to top.
Crazy scribbles filled up the pages,
it seems that I just couldn't stop.
Seeing that serves to remind me,
of how lucky I am right now.
I made it through mental illness,
with help, I just did it somehow.
I'm glad to have all these memories,
I'm grateful for my life today.
That fifteen-year-old girl who wrote them,
I still learn from things she had to say.
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