Don’t you have random journal entries?

Welcome to this week’s therapy session between the imaginary, but amazing, DOC and the crazy-and-not-afraid-for-the-internet-to-know-it Larrie, LRE.

DOC: What’s that you’ve got there?

LRE: Hi to you, too. It’s one of my journals.

DOC: You brought your journal to therapy?

LRE: Yes.

DOC: Why?

LRE: Because I did that once with a previous therapist and it was… interesting.

DOC: Previous therapist? There have been… OTHERS… before me?

LRE: Yeah, imagine that.

DOC: How many others?

LRE: What? Are you jealous?

DOC: Did you get AROUND with therapists?

LRE: Seriously?

DOC: Sorry. Maybe you should just read something out of your journal. Here, let me pick a random entry. Hmm… (flipping through pages) You wrote letters to some Andrew in your journal?

LRE: Maybe.

DOC: And there are some cat pictures in here…

LRE: Yeah; I’m the crazy cat lady.

DOC: Oh right. EVERYBODY knows that.

LRE: Right.

DOC: Your handwriting changes with just about every entry.

LRE: Are you going to pick one?

DOC: Sorry; just haven’t seen such a RANDOM journal before.

LRE: Do you often thumb through others’ journals?

DOC: Mebbe; I AM a therapist, after all.

LRE: Yeah… in MY head.

DOC: Hey, you actually FINISHED this journal.

LRE: That’s right; and it only took me six years.

DOC: Here are two entries on the same day… January 15th, 2003. One in the morning, one in the evening. Read some of those two.

LRE: All right; you asked for it.

January 15, AM

I read over much of my journal tonight and it paints me a picture of a lot of mud with a few, small gems if you search for them. I wonder what other people’s journals read like. Mine obviously follows the randomness of my thought patterns. If someone else were to read my journals, they would get an inside look at my own thoughts—they would be thoroughly confused or else lost down a road my mind once wandered. I should sleep—slip away into dreamland where anything can happen and everything does. The other night, I was building giant castles to serve as a fortress. Tonight? We’ll see…

January 15, PM

I’m trying to record observations, but I don’t seem to be too good at it. (Changes from black pen to red pen.) Right now, I’m listening in on Zedd’s and his roommate’s conversation and they (changes from red pen to new, black pen) have made two conclusions: you never remember important memories and Monty Python and the Holy Grail is a good movie. And the topic has changed: ways to vent when feeling bitter. And on the top of the list: throwing water balloons filled with shaving cream.

DOC: Um, the handwriting looks ALMOST the same. Are you sure those two entries were written by you?

LRE: For sure; I never let anybody else write in THIS journal.

DOC: You let people write in other journals?

LRE: Well, I didn’t exactly let him, but a past boyfriend had one of my journals, wrote something in it on two pages and TORE OUT ONE OF THE PAGES!

DOC: That must have ended it right there.

LRE: Seriously; NEVER tear out pages from an English major’s journal.

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