Dear Reader

My Story 1/8/2015
 Ever since I was a little girl, I have wanted to be a writer. I have
always loved the idea of writing all my secrets where nobody would everhear them; the idea of writing what I could never say out loud. Hearts canleak, but books can never be broken. Hearts can be robbed, but books keepfighting and fighting until there is nothing left that’s worth stealing.  Ideveloped a sense of “trust” in my notebooks. I loved thought that mywords mattered to them.
       It’s this constant battle you see, one that often throws me amidst theknights and the warlords, and their bloody misunderstandings. That’s allthat war really is: a bunch of people misunderstanding each other.There is a rare case or two of people fighting just to kill time, but for all ofthe other times, there is always a reason. My reason is my "introvertiveness."
       I hate my definition.
       I was shy, I was sad, and worst of all: I knew it. My notebooks weremy prized possession. Each one had its own personality and when Ineeded a friend, I knew that I would always have one. I have not alwaysbeen the most well liked at school and at there was a time when I hadabsolutely no friends and nobody to turn to other than my notebooks, andmy mom.
       I eventually did make some friends, but I’ve always had this strangefeeling that I’m just a little bit different than everyone else. I know that nomatter how hard I try, I’ll never quite fit in perfectly, but I’m probably theclosest puzzle piece to the one needed to fill the very oddly shaped hole inmy friend’s hearts.
       Sometimes, writing is the only way to get something that you want,but know you can never have. It’s easier to stay ignorant than riskeverything to go after something that is so far out of reach. Even inday-dreams though, it is impossible to ever achieve any sort of satisfactionwith your accomplishments because they aren’t real.
       Over time, and as technology evolved, those notebooks turned intofiles and those files turned into folders and then I realized that the internetexisted. I could not only write whatever I wanted, but I could share it withthe world. I could do anything; I could be anyone. And that’s how I changedmy definition. I still had my notebooks, but I had changed. I no longerwanted to forever keep to myself, but I wanted to share the world that I hadcreated. I wanted to give others some of the joy that I’ve found whilewriting. I went from this pathetic, introverted girl sitting in the corner, to aconfident well-spoken individual with her own strong opinions.

~Julie

Speechless 1/6/2015
Dear Reader,No. It's actually more like wordless... Lately, I've been so focused on writing to please people. My teachers, my parents, my clients, they all expect perfection but there's only so much of the "perfectly worded" me to go around. If I keep dishing out the words at this rate, eventually I'm going to crack.
Does anybody else on the big, worldwide web know this feeling? The feeling of being so wordy without saying anything at all. I can write page after page about the effect that the Civil war had on pancakes in the South or the what pizza does when sprinkled with radium. (totally making this up by the way. I have no idea what effect radium has on pizza) I want to say something that will make people think long and hard about life, freedom, love, but how can I do that when my words are aimed at someone else and not me.

That's one of my resolutions.Speak as if the room is empty.Write as if no one is reading.Express myself as if no one cares at all...
~Julie

 Death by History 10/19/2015
Dear Reader,
Let's just say that today has been a bit of a struggle. I did FIVE HOURS of extra credit for my AP US History class this morning and it was so torturous that it literally led to a mental breakdown. I am so done!!! We are just starting Christmas break which is super exciting!! Only the two weeks of break + two more weeks of actual school until I am DONE!! (can I hear a woot-woot?!!)
I have to play the piano at church tomorrow and I am really not looking forward to it. I am accompanying two groups who are singing. Fun fact: I actually arranged the songs for them to sing. Cool right? Maybe I'll put them on here. Music is a form of art, right?~Julie



Freedom!!! 12/18/2015
Dear Reader,
I officially killed my pseudonym.
It's gone.
Dead.

You, dear reader, don't need to know who it was.
Just know that right now, she is sitting alone in cyberspace with a cold steel knife in her back.
Yes, that's right.
I am that cruel...

I never thought that something this trivial would take so long. I've been wanting to write online as the real me for a long time now. You don't get the same satisfaction, writing for people who don't even know that the real you exists. I want my voice to be heard. I want people to know that I care about what I'm saying enough to reveal my name.

So consider this a fresh start.
A blank page.
With words on it...
Never mind

I'm FREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

~Julie