Need to.

The words that are inside often ask to be let out. The thoughts that have mustered up the courage to become paragraphs and speech transitions. Usually I ignore them.

Only when they’re raging with emotion do I usually let them crack the door, and leak onto the easiest to reach social networking site, where I indiscreetly hope the vague references will reach and pierce their intended victims. Sickening really.

Tonight, as I came up with spare time, and aimlessly googled so cal photographers, I realized I’m doing myself a huge disfavor. My words are meant to be typed or written, jotted down with horrible penmanship and grammar. Journals tell my past, my history, a story of mistakes and heartache and a few joys and triumphs here and there. The future is unknown. But I will know it even less if I do not know my past.

So on nights like tonight, where I’m not intrigued by the whirlwind of the internet and I can’t play fable II because my husband is, I should take advantage of my words.

It’s not a promise. It’s a try. Because of a need to.

We’ll see how this goes.