xLazyxWriterx

  April 15, 1865    There's a dull, throbbing ache starting at the back of my skull, causing all the muscles in my neck and jaw to clench. It is hard to keep my eyes open and painful to glance around in this darkness. I've been like this for a while now; in a daze with pulsating pain in the back of my eyes, cramps forming in all the joints of my baby, and a continual chill running up the back of my spine. It is cold here, and I find it difficult to write this legibly with frozen, chapped fingers, but I hope to finish up the last few pages of this leather bound book of memories.     It is a strange feeling, though, to have my blood freeze

 Prompt: Write a scene that involves the words: Ribbon, Trident, Bamboo. She was such a pretty little girl. She was so very tiny with wide green eyes and long blonde hair pulled back by a silk ribbon. The ribbon matched her favorite dress. She only got to wear the dress on special occasions, like holidays and church events. She was such a pretty little girl. She used to get so excited when Mother would pull the pretty little red dress out of the back of the closet and brush it off. She would always do a little twirl for Mother once she was fully dressed in her pretty dress and little black button shoes. Her giggles would fill the room, an

I often get asked about why I own so many different journals and notebooks.  I have a few little journals that have one or two entries, and then were pushed aside to collect dust. I have a few diary's from when a was in my "I hate everything" stage and when I was in high school that are filled completely. I have stacks of visual journals and art books that I work on every other day. I have brand new journals that are patiently waiting to be written in. I have a whole shelf dedicated to all these books filled with my thoughts and dreams, as well as the unwritten ones. I have I never thought much on why I feel like I need so many, and always a