Within My Pages; My Passion

Dear Amanda,

Hello, how are you? It's been a few months since I last felt your gentle fingers brush across my pages. I miss your touch like your walls miss sunlight. You really should open the curtains more - we all enjoy it!

Despite not being written in for some time, a part of me is glad you have not. Based on the shapes of the ink within the lines, most of your entries from this past year have been of agony, confusion, and grief. I cannot help but absorb these emotions, as is my purpose, and reflect on them when you are away.

Last year, you kept me close. You usually placed me within reach of your bedside, a position I cherished. I was more than happy to hold my thin paper heart open for you whenever you needed something to cling to. My favorite sessions, of course, were when you shared your small triumphs and your new loves, but I realize life has delivered more rain than sunshine. Don't worry about the water stains - they fade with time. Plus, it adds some personality to my pages, don't you agree?

But now, at the end of this tumultuous year, I rest alongside many other journals, all in various sizes, shapes and colors. Each have their own voices and memories of you, with which we share openly. It's like a big family!

From them I hear your whispers of hope, your dazzling goals, your high aspirations. Some, like me, safeguard your memories, your deepest secrets and fears. For this I am grateful.

I even get a peak at your worlds from others - your towers of bravery and magic, loss and triumph. The heat of colored flames within rocky valleys and the great whoosh of massive feathered wings high above. I've quite enjoyed the newest additions with collaborations with other writers like yourself. Even when you hit those slumps, as you call them, a friend always seems to keep you going.

From this shelf I have seen you lament and grow this year more than at any other time. I've seen you from waist height folded over the desk across from me, your head hanging in your arms as if to cradle your mind to a peaceful slumber. I've seen you intently leaned forward, your dark brow gently wrinkling the skin of your forehead as your laptop glowed into your irises late into the night and morning hours. Then, I've seen you stand open mouthed, staring at your phone saying "no way, no way!" over and over again. That last one is my favorite to watch. All the journals shake a bit with you as you laugh with glee and triumph at your newest milestone.

This year, I only have one request. I want you to chase your dreams unabashedly. Forget the fear, the uncertainty, the doubt that the path you have chosen is the right one. All of us here on this little shelf in the corner of your writing room want you to know that it's okay. Even if you don't succeed how you might want, the truth of the matter is that your happiness is what makes life beautiful and meaningful. It's what fills our pages with light and warmth that we know you have been starved for for far too long.

Next time you open me up, curling aside the silk ribbon with that kind, gentle touch you have never lost since you picked me up over a decade ago, I want you to write something that will make you smile. I think that will be a great start for you - for me - this year.

With much love,

Your journal.