I started keeping a journal when I was about eleven. I've been writing in it pretty much ever since, though it's taken various forms. Why? What am I trying to accomplish? Am I succeeding?
I'm basically taking notes, scribbling out anything that seems noteworthy. I must have learned fairly young that it might be a useful technique for figuring out what the fuck is going on. A way of sorting my tangled thoughts, filing them away, in case I need them later.
It is amazing to me, how much of my life I don't remember. There's a highlight reel, but what was I doing on Oct. 20th, 2015? Who the hell knows. I'm not sure I can recall anything specific that occurred in last year's entire month of October, but if I check what I was writing about, that will probably help.
As I started posting my rambling online, it also became a social act. Ideally, I hope for others to come along, similarly confounded by life, looking to share notes. An impulse to reach out for social structure, for reassurance, to figure things out together. A normal impulse, that plays out somewhat differently for me.
Maybe I'm just crazy, though. I don't even want to pretend to know, anymore. Just keep doing what I'm doing, and ah, fuck it. Whatever.