JOURNALISM: The Accepted Form of Schizophrenia

Journals and diaries. I know what you're thinking. (Haha, I love saying that, doesn't it just mess with your head? "I know what you're thinking." "NO YOU DON'T YOU STALKER GET THE HECK OUT OF MY MIND.") Ahem. Sorry for that. Allow me to paraphrase: I know what you might be thinking. (Well that sounds lame.) You're probably wondering how weird you have to be to have enough to say on journals and diaries to blog about it. The answer is: this weird. . . obviously. (It's not such an amazing feat though, considering I just wasted a paragraph writing about writing about it.)
Okies, so first off, I do keep a journal. Not religiously, but I find that it's a nice way to vent. So most of the stuff in that journal is. . . angry (and explicit). That said, I don't really see the point of journals. Unless you show them to other people, you're basically talking to yourself. It's like the accepted form of schizophrenia (hence the title. I know it's sad that I'm self-righteous enough to quote myself (I'm really not) . . .  (Yay for double parenthesis!). . . ). So if you only write in circumstances like the ones I write in, you're pretty much just whining about how much your life sucks. And I've done plenty of that, I'm just pointing it out for those of you who may still be in denial.
And I know what all those people say, the whole "It helps you get through things, see them from a different perspective blah blah blah. . . " Okay, so maybe they don't do the "blah blah blah" part, but you get it. I don't know about you but I can see the most my situations pretty clearly. And I'm sorry that I don't believe that struggling to find the right sentence fluency so that it sounds good in words helps me in any way. (Is the sentence fluency thing just me? . . . I think it is. . . oh well. . . )
Also, what's up with all the fancy-looking diaries? Like the ones that say "TOP SECRET" or "DO NOT READ" across them? I'm pretty sure the CIA isn't interested in the boys you like or the new pink dress your mommy just bought you or what flavor lip gloss you wear. And what about ones like this?:

 

Is it just me or do these just scream "READ ME"? When I was little I just loved these kinds, with all the "secrecy"and keys that I lost. And my older brother just loved to find them and write in them and make fun of me for fantasizing about Orlando Bloom. It took a while, but finally I figured out that my underwear drawer wasn't a very original hiding place, and it's too irresistible to not read pretty little diaries with bows and hearts and bunnyrabbits on them. I now have a very creative idea for keeping my journal unread. I actually stole it from "How my Private Personal Journal Became a Bestseller" by Julia Devillers (I heard the Disney Channel turned it into a movie, which is insulting since everything that that channel touches dies) which was actually a pretty decent book. But I'll never tell. Who knows, my brother could be reading this. . . (Haha, I doubt he's still interested in that stuff anymore though. . .) Pretty much all I do is take a normal comp notebook and write Language Arts on the cover and voila! It is no longer interesting.
Oh. Oops.
Haha. Well I actually do have a lot more to say on this topic, as sad as it is, but I won't because I have a stupid concert to go to. Ti amo e ciao, mi amore. . . s. . . !

Anna