Dear Diary, Dear Journal,
Oh, screw it.
Now I know why my clients look at me stupid when I suggest that they keep a journal of their thoughts. It’s therapeutic! It will help you resolve inner conflicts and conflicts with others without negative confrontation! It will help you reduce stress!
It’s ridiculous. I feel like I’m twelve.
Stop it, Nancy. You know better.
Mom gave me this journal two years ago as a Winter Solstice gift. One of her not-so-subtle hints regarding her disapproval about my career choice. It has this beautiful forest green goat leather cover with hand-sewn binding and a gold foil pentagram. It’s a bit over-the-top for your average diary, but it would have made a gorgeous grimoire.
Which was, of course, Mom’s point.
This thing has been sitting on my bookshelf since she gave it to me, right between my old Apprentice grimoire and Introduction to Behavior Sciences. That monster is almost five inches thick and cost me $60, used! The damn school bookstore was only going to give me a $10 trade-in for the thing when the semester was over. College textbooks are such a rip-off.
See, this is why I will suck at keeping a journal. I get off on tangents about unrelated stuff.
Not like anyone is ever going to read this thing, right?
Mom’s dead. My mother is dead and I’m complaining about an overpriced college textbook from over ten years ago.
What am I doing? I just ruined this
grimoire journal. Just burned a page on nonsense and now it’s ruined. I guess now I have no excuse not to keep a journal, right? It’s keep a journal or admit I destroyed one of my mother’s gifts to me for no good reason.
I’ll come back to this later. I have to call my brother and make funeral arrangements.
Excerpt One from Nancy Werlock’s Diary (Episode One)