4/300: Write a diary entry, dated 10 years in the future.

hello.

i don’t write in here nearly as much as i should. as a result, it’s a patchwork record of my life. a mundane documentation of individual days, important to no one but me. the i only time i managed to reliably keep a daily journal was when i traveled.

23. naïve. wide-eyed, gave-a-shit, open-hearted.

i still haven’t reread a single entry.

so why am i writing again now? well. when i was a baby, my mom kept a daily journal. about me. a record of every sleepless night, every weird quirk, every precious moment. she gave me those journals when i was in my early 20s. a record of all the memories i don’t have, lovingly collected and packaged. for me.

such a gift to read. to remember. each pen stroke, long dried, radiates love.

i guess it’s my turn to start writing for you, little dude.

welcome to the world.