My journal of 3 1/2 years has turned from a mixed bag of thoughts and wondering what to do with blank space to a thoughtful collection of art, poetry and embarrassing thinking that I care not to share with anyone, most anyone. Anyway, tonight I am reaching my final pages (2, count them, 2 left) and I have created some things that I truly love. Doodles, yes, but lovely doodles. I feel better, lighter, complete-er?
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