Who will read this?

I have journalled since I was was 10 years old. Almost all of them are lost. 

I always thought Someone would read my journals, who and Why varried, but I always wrote picturing someone reading them. Until now. 

Reality. Likely, no one will even want to read my journal. Worse, i don't blame them or even expect it. 

Did I ever think I shared Words Of Wisdom?? I believe I did. If nothing else, I believed that someone someday would want to know My Story because it was Their History.

My mother told me that she burned all of her journals after WWII. I used to imagine what was in those diaries that caused her to burn them. At the least,  I believed they would have been of historic interest. They are hopelessly gone. Worse, I can't see any way they would help me now.  Hers would have definitely been interesting, likely shedding light on that era in Japanese history not unlike The Diary of Ann Frank but I know they don't matter to any of us alive now.  Mine is even less significant. 

In recent years I think I pictured those who love me reading these af tr wr my death. 

Now I'm not even sure anyone loves me let alone has any interest in what I might have to say. Not Really. I won't even be remembered beyond the generation I die in. 

I still write therapeutically,  for myself. My Delusions of Grandeur are dead. I'm amazed they survived so long!! The Wake Up Call Jessalynn delivered Christmas Eve ended the last remnants of them.  MATTERING ended. If she who I devoted most of the last 2 decades to despised me, well, it sure was a Wake Up call!!

All my life I have tried to encourage people to Wake Up to how uniquely wonderful they were. I assumed that I, too, was Uniquely Wonderful!! I was wrong about Me. And maybe none of us are.

Can it be true that humans are just a slip of the tongue on the path of Evolution??

Without God WE ARE NOTHING.  

Different People

Does everyone of an age look back at all the different people they have been? I see so many multiple me's,  some times several at once, and I don't mean the classic multiple personality disorder. Although it might be some kind of disorder.  Some are related to the age I was, some are connected to who I was with and what circumstances I was in. Some are just baffling.

I definitely had a talent for blending in wherever I was. But I think it was sometimes more than that.

I used to become a person I was reading about, I thought everyone did, but maybe not? You could describe it as an actor "staying in character" to an extreme degree. Even as a child, I often wanted to be the people I read about that I admired  and would try to act like them. In my teens I started Becoming them. Talk as they talked, think as they thought, act and react like them. I read a Lot, had a huge store of people to Be. 

It all sounds trite now but it was very real and created a very confusing life. I was very religious and very immoral. I was very caring and extremely careless. Yin yang. It was chaos at best for me and everyone around me. 

Now I am simply an old woman. The same dull person day after day. I think I look at my past with more shame than pride. I did not expect that. Whoever I was, I was confident that I at least served the Greater Good. 

This makes no sense,  why can I never even Express myself anymore??