Went to a similar dilema with my very own collection of journals. There was a time where I didn’t even write about my life for what felt like years (in reality it was only a few months). My reasoning was identical to yours. In essence, I was writing the same shit. It took a while, but I decided to go back, and I haven’t stopped since. Looking back, the memories do invoke in many moments deep sadness, but I see them as an important part of my development as a human being. The return to journal entries came with more awareness at how similar each entry was made, and I decided to do my best at fixing this problem. I’ve learned to meshed journal entries with fictional writing, and the combination has served for much inspiration. If you’re still battling with this decision, my recommendation is to let the mind flow even more. Try to catalogue the environment, play with it in lyrical and realistic technique. Hope this helps.