A grandmothers journal.
- Reads 37
- Votes 5
- Parts 3
Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Sat, Oct 25, 2014
What started as another journal to write in and then soon forget, became something so much more meaningful than anything I could ever have. The thing is, is that it's not my journal. It has been long forgotten but I cant come to sense as to WHY it was forgotten. Maybe you can help me out. Tell me all things why. All things crazy about this journal. About my grandmothers writing in this journal.
*Somethings have been altered to save face. Thank you.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
With Love, S
I'm not sure how to start this; to be honest, I'm not even sure how to write this. If there's one place we can start, my brain, the most fragile yet sacred thing I've ever owned. Again, I'm unsure how or where to start with this, but let's start by being honest. I think a lot, and I'm sure you do too, so let's think together. (this is an original piece)
A Single Year in the Life of a Teenager (Editing)
This is going to be like a journal for me, and you'll get to read all my thoughts feelings, and anything I want to share about my life. I'll tell you about my struggles and my dreams. My goal is to write something everyday for 365 days, whether it's pages or paragraphs. Hope you guys enjoy it! Note: Names have been changed to protect people's identity.Complete
Write it Down so I Don't Forget
Elizabeth has a very mundane boring life but sometimes she needs to vent about anything and everything. The only relief she finds is by writing it down. So this is her life. This is her diary. It's not formatted like an actual book and it has IM language as well as emojis because this is my life. This is basically a "story" of my senior year. It's messy and unorganized just like my life. Don't hate this is actually what happens/ had happened to me. I changed names and took out some parts but everything is very real. *this has NOT been edited! Read at your own risk*Complete
A Lovely Life
Journey with me back in time as I rewrite the first Journal I kept from when I was in high school, and see that maybe even with how horrible life is most of the times, there are little things spread throughout that make life worth living. My high school experience was full of drama, tears, laughter, and most of all constant search of love, and approval of the people around me. I can't always get what I want in this world. Life is a beautiful mess. It's not perfect, and filled with a lot of disappointments, and heartbreak. There are moments when it all feels too much, but there's not much we can do other than go with the flow of things.Complete
You Can't Always Get What You Want (Rea's Song)
On March 28, 2020, I began a journal as my wife Rea, was nearing a pivotal point in her journey to uncover the underlying cause of some increasingly problematic medical issues. For the most part the text of this book comes directly from that journal. It has been edited as little as possible, mostly to correct typos, improve clarity, make the formatting consistent and remove some items which were copyrighted by people other than me. This account is raw and unfiltered. Rea-pronounced like "area" without the first 'A'-was my soulmate and inseparable partner for almost 27 years. She stood just under 5 feet tall. As her hair greyed in later years she took to highlighting the ends in a dark shade of purple. She was kind, inquisitive, and hard working. She smiled frequently, and cared deeply about her friends, family and the world around her. She loved music, especially live music and until very near the end, all I had to do was play Phish or the Grateful Dead and she would smile and start moving to the music. Her unique name came from her mother who combined a blend of family initials-Roy, her dad, and Ernest and Albert, her maternal uncles. I always believed Rea was one in a million. Tragically, I was right, but not in the way I ever would have chosen.Complete
After Senior Year.
June 30th, 2014. My life has always been a mess. From bullies constantly pushing me to the ground to my family pulling me in so many directions I begin to fall apart. This isn't just about all the terrible things I've dealt with, but also the amazing times I've had. Late nights out with my friends and great laughs reading my favorite books past sunrise. This is my life journal after I graduated. It's filled with some normal and not so normal everyday struggles. If your life isn't story worthy are you sure you're living it right?Complete
Cheat
I've written 3 anonymous online journals so far in my life. The first was as an adolescent, ending when, at 19, I commenced a long term relationship in which my partner had an issue with me writing about my thoughts and feelings in case they were about her. I also had to cease my other creative outlet - drawing. Because she felt it's abstracted nature hid secret messages about her. The second started when that relationship was coming to an end. I needed an outlet. I had nobody to talk to about what I was going through so I secretly started writing again. This is that second journal, when I was around 25 years old, which I've taken from it's retired blogger page and have transferred here. Part of the reason I am doing this is because my daughter, who was very young at the time of writing this, has expressed some curiosity about my journal. One day when she's older and has more life experience it might be OK to see what I'm writing now, but in the meantime, she can read this, a moment in my life for which she was present but that she could not understand at the time.
All The Things I've Never Told You
Would it have changed anything if I had told you this before? Would it have sugarcoated everything and made it better? I guess we'll never know or maybe I'll never know. But most importantly had I stayed longer, had I admitted my feelings to myself and had I realized I loved you; maybe it could've been better. You only know, about me, what you've been told but it never really mattered to you because they were nothing more than rumors. But it's too late to turn back the hands of time, too late for me to come back, too late for you to still love me and too late for you to untouch me...Complete
I'm not sure how to start this; to be honest, I'm not even sure how to write this. If there's one place we can start, my brain, the most fragile yet sacred thing I've ever owned. Again, I'm unsure how or where to start with this, but let's start by being honest. I think a lot, and I'm sure you do too, so let's think together. (this is an original piece)
More detailsContent Guidelines