I was in third grade. Our teacher had a bob and she was kind. She gave each of us a journal, sheets of computer paper bound together by staples. She taught us that writing could as simple as writing down what happened to you that day to big, bombastic stories — real epics.
She carved out time throughout the week for us to write. This continued on for maybe a month. I loved it. Stories about monkeys fighting airplanes were interspersed with details about the bugs I collected at recess. Any bit of free time I had was dedicated to writing, both in school and out.
Within a couple weeks, the journal was filled. Probably bad writing, yeah, but it was mine nonetheless.
Fast forward a couple months. Third grade ends. Summer begins. I look for my journal. I can’t find it. I ask my mother where it is. She said she threw it away. I cry. She feels guilty. We never talk about it.
It’s maybe my first experience with grief. I felt legitimately connected to the experience of writing, and to experience actual loss, especially at that young of an age, changed my brain forever. Twenty years later, I write editorial articles at work and poetry at home. I still have a very tenuous relationship with the void lol.
2d ago
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I love putting my feelings on paper, it helps me to know that they’re real. Plus, I have way too many thoughts, I can’t hold all that in my head. Some things are best left in a notebook than in the body. I have an incredibly warped sense of time, so I sometimes reread journals to remind myself of what has happened in my life. And wow, there’s nothing more powerful than a preteen’s unbridled emotions and Ashley you will pay for what you did in the 5th grade. If I die and someone finds all of my journals please publish them, there’s some good tea in there and I’m not afraid of burning bridges in the afterlife. Get a good pen, find a nice notebook, and put it all down.
Oct 27, 2023
I’ve had a diary/journal ever since I was in 2nd grade (shoutouts to Amelia’s Notebook for sparking something in me). My journal is one of my most prized possessions. It’s my confidante, my source of inspiration, my friend.
Journaling has always allowed me to unapologetically express myself. I’ve learned to embrace my voice through writing. I love when I read back on past journal entries and be like, ‘Damn I wrote this?! This is poetry.’
Feb 13, 2025
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when I was a teenager, I burned all my journals because I didn’t want anyone knowing my thoughts. Or it was just to fit my dramatic emo aesthetic. Either way, I’m sad to not be able to look back on those times. Little me could have used empathetic older me.
I’ve kept all of my journals since. Some of them are really hard to look back on and bring me back to really dark times in my life. I like having them available to me though. I like to imagine my kids or my grandkids reading through them someday and understanding me as a whole human, not just as mother or grandmother.
I tend to write a lot more when I’m sad or depressed, so I’ve been working on writing during the good times too.
Jun 6, 2024
Top Recs from @jonjonkim
Things that change are interesting to me. Light, humans, all plants, etc.
My favorite images were ones where the subject had some degree of mutability.
May 1, 2025
Doing a Molly Baz move and stir-frying some elbow macaronis I cooked awhile ago then doing an Eric Kim move and tossing the crispy pasta in a fermented, creamy sauce.
edit: pretty amazing, folks
Jul 26, 2024
sloane_shark This method helps with notebooks that don’t naturally lay flat! It isn’t a perfect system, but it works pretty well.
I like *using tools* even if those tools are humble clips.
Oct 10, 2024