In my efforts of becoming a more mindful and self-aware individual, I bought myself a journal where I could write and reflect on my days. Little did I know that I was buying myself a best friend; my something special.
I thought that best friends were found, not bought, and that they had to be human.
My journal radiates with positive energy. Its bright pink and white colours lift up my spirits and lights up even the darkest days. It is written “Smile” on the cover page, which is my everyday inspiration. It reminds me to be happy when I’m sad, to understand that good things come with the bad and the wrongs the rights commit.
After a continuous process of trying to find friends and failing, I figured that maybe there must be something wrong with me. Why can’t I interact with and tolerate other people? I went undercover and tried to find out; which was where I discovered a world of mindfulness and personal development.
Exploring these things made me even more different from my peers. Difference is not a bad thing when you learn to embrace it, but to a 16-year old girl, it is. The outside world is quick to judge. We draw conclusions, subjectively unaware that we might be wrong. Life is like a novel and every individual is on a different chapter of it. We all believe that our part of the story is true, which is correct but incomplete. Other people see the world differently and your experience of it shouldn’t be the judge of others.
I’m not saying that I don’t stereotype and I carry zero bias with me, I’m saying that people will never experience the world as you did. This makes every individual tell a different narrative of the world out there. It also means that people will try to empathize but never understand you. You might try but will never be able to fully put yourself in other people’s shoes, which is why sharing your life experiences with them is worthless.
There is a lot of science that goes behind the belief of talking to people as a way of healing.
But what about talking to yourself? Or a book? In my journal I have found a friend indeed.
When I confront it with my problems it doesn’t try to talk about how little my problems are
compared to its own, as a person would. Telling my secrets to other people is always against
its will as there is nothing it can do to protect them when someone opens it up.
My journal gives me a chance to talk about everything, but it never talks back. It doesn’t try
to give me advice that might only be true to its way of living as a human does. Instead, it lets
me think my way out of every situation I find myself in. It’s like I’m talking to my best friend, only that it doesn’t reply, it doesn’t judge and doesn’t lead me astray.
My special something helps me in my journey of discovering my special self. It listens to my
bragging, knows about my happy days, understands my pain and knows the many scars I
have. I’ve told it almost everything about my life but the only response I ever got from it was