My parents gave me a journal when I was 7 years old and encouraged me to write in it. I recorded my thoughts, dreams, day to day experiences, and drew pictures. I was honest and open in my journal because I knew nobody would read it except for me. But, at the age of 9, my dad found my journal while making my bed, and decided to read it. He had a talk with me about something he read. I felt angry and betrayed, so a few days later I decided to place my journal in the wood burning stove and light it on fire. As I sat watching my journal go up in flames, I made a promise to myself that I would never keep a journal again.
At age 25, I received a Christmas gift from my younger brother Seth. It was a brand new, small black journal. It took me several months before I gathered the courage to write down my thoughts again. This is that journal which I kept from 2003-2008. Many of the names and places have been changed to protect the privacy of those who have found themselves within these pages.
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