I once knew a girl who would fill her journals front and back. She’d write everything she knew. She kept no secrets in her writing. She spilled every little detail in her life. Every little flaw. Every little mistake she’s made. But still, she hears no end to all of the blame they put on her. It didn’t become clear to her when she finally learned that she has a crown to uphold. And damn, she lost it along the way.
Her story goes like this:
Born in the midst of a rainstorm, you could hear the cries of a little girl. The music calmed her down. She was carefree as most people tell you about her. Others knew her as the bad girl in denim jeans. The rebel. The troublemaker. She didn’t know how to respond but told it as who people ought she would be.
The girl was screaming, “People think we’re toxic. People think we’re toxic. People think we’re toxic.” And yet, no one listened until she breathed in the fumes that almost consumed her. She didn’t want to go. She had so much to prove and not a single complaint came out of her red lips.She could be anyone. A Queen who had to marry a former enemy. A great Sorceress with the power to bring greatness into the world. A girl with the love for Christmas. The girl next door, maybe? Who knows.
She did keep a journal. Each page of her journal is a secret she wrote from her prime. These are those pages from her journal.
PS. I also take my own photos at times. You can view them right here.
Playlists to start our conversations with:
➵ Listen: Personal Favourites
➵ Listen: Musical Faves
➵ Listen: Summer Jams
➵ Listen: Don’t Mess With Me
➵ Listen: Holiday Favourites