| It said 10:50 PM in my wall clock, and I was supposed to be reading an article
for my English class, but my mind couldn�t stay focused on it. So I looked for a diversion for
my overly worked up brain when my eyes fell on the tattered cover of my old journal. I don�t know
what made me keep a journal back then. Maybe because I was going through such an emotional turmoil
during my younger teenage years that I needed so desperately to have an emotional outlet.
All I know is that my journey to self discovery started when I first page of my journal.
As a very private person, writing down what I was going through gave me a sense of order
and clarity of how I should react to certain problem and situation. I drained out the all
the anger and desperation I felt inside and replaced it with calmness and serenity of mind.
It�s the best friend that I�ve ever had. It never judged me for who I was, for what I thought
about things and for what I felt about the people around me. It just they�re to absorb my thoughts.
Even though I�ve written an entire event of my totally non existent love life that could pass up as
bad reviewed novel, my journal never laughed at me or scoffed of my entirely mushy view of life. Reading now through its yellow pages,
I never realized how vivid the memories of my past could come back to me. Going back into the time when first cheated in an exam.
The administrators just to vent out our frustration over them. Stories of first mischief and typical teenage " kabalastugan".
Stories of carefree days without the burden of heavy responsibilities. Stories of teenage angst, desperation and insecurities and
insecurities to fit in, in the cool crowd.
As I compare who I was before, to the person I am right now, I was amazed how person could change through a course time.
It amazed me how much I�ve changed as an individual, as a son, as student and as a friend. Though I know and understand my
self better now, my journey to self-discovery has yet ended. All know is that I could always have that trusty journal to reflect on,
on which I as a person, on who am inside.
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