Twenty-fourth

Dear July,
I was thinking today about how obsessively I chronicle my existence. If you wanted to, you could piece my entire life together from journal entries and blog posts. I’ve filled almost 20 diaries since I started writing daily. I’ve written tens of thousands of words on this blog. There have been times when Ive written whole conversations out, just so I can keep them for later. I hoard days and memories and moments.
I don’t really know who this obsessive record keeping is for. It’s for me, mostly, I think. I like being able to fact check my memories. There’s something comforting about knowing (and being able to prove if I had to) what I was doing on any given day, right back to late November 2009 (before that too – but it’s patchier before that).
But sometimes I wonder if it’s weird. Is it weird, July? Is it weird that for every single July day for the last three years, I have two records – a private one and a public one. Every one of those (largely unremarkable) days I’ve chained down with words. It’s comforting, knowing I have so many locked down. But maybe I should also be less afraid to let some days go.

Alex x

I’m posting a blog for every day in July. Letters to July was inspired by Emily Diana Ruth.

Further reading

December – home

I spent the first minutes of 2018 on the beach. I’ve never actually spent New Year