Everybody who knows me, knows that I keep a journal. I have since I was 10 or so. Really mundane stuff, of course, the kind of thing you write about when you’re 10. What you did at school, your bike being stolen, who you invited to your birthday-party, that kind of thing. In rather unwieldy handwriting. It can be rather charming to reread.
As are the ones I kept during high school, when my handwriting deteriorated sharply. I can hardly make out what I was trying to say at times. One line is capable of holding more than three words, I want to tell my younger self. She just doesn’t seem to listen. That does sound a lot like me at that age.
I still keep one. I don’t hold with the notion that this is something that only young people do. (Is that even a notion, or just something that I told myself was true? Because I wouldn’t be surprised at that, that I talked myself into something that isn’t true.) My handwriting has got better over the years, some.