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Dear Diary.

Once, I attempted to write a poem which referenced a line from every journal I’ve had since I was 6 years old. The poem didn’t read well and so it has lived in an old journal of mine since last Fall. That particular old journal has been stowed away in my camera bag and I just pulled it out this week. As I read through it, it was that piece which I connected to the most. I decided, as per usual, to share.

Age 6 – Dear diary, it’s my birthday today.
Age 7 – Today, I ran away and no one noticed.
Age 8 – I hope things settle down. My brother just punched a window.
Age 9 – My life long dream is to get a book that I’ve been writing published.
Age 10 – My step-dad has been on crack cocaine for months. Mom kicked him out and I was grateful. But, he’s been sleeping here again.
Age 11 – You may not know this, but, redheads with freckles don’t get many boyfriends. They get lots of boys who are friends.
Age 12 – I hate my life. I want to die.
Age 13 – I’m ready to start my period.
Age 14 – Reminder to not eat before cheer gym. I almost vomited but, finally I nailed my back hand spring.
Age 15 – I bought a thong yesterday.
Age 16 – I don’t like to laugh in front of people because I have an ugly smile.
Age 17 – I’m at work until midnight tonight and don’t have any money for dinner. I think about food too much, no wonder I am fat.
Age 18 – I hate that I’m interested in him because every girl is interested in him.
Age 19 – It’s 2am. If I can just make it 6 more hours in this waffle house I won’t have to sleep in my car tonight.
Age 20 – I’m on the plane to Chicago. I’m realizing that I have no idea what I’m doing.
Age 21 – He asked me to be his girlfriend today.
Age 22 – I told him that I just need to know today more than ever that he loved me. He was silent.
Age 23 – I flew in from India today and he proposed.
Age 24 – Today is my wedding day.
Age 25 – In Paris today. I’ve found a home in a small cafe’. It scares me that I’m happier in here with strangers than with the one I love.
Age 26 – We’re in Sierra Vista, AZ tonight and Tucson tomorrow. I’m sick and he is losing patience.
Age 27 – We officially separated today. Our first love. How imperfect and perfect it was.
Age 28 – I want to make sure I don’t forget these moments.
Age 29 –  For the first time in my life I’ve felt the awareness that I will one day grow old. I may be as physically beautiful as I will ever be. I don’t want to take it for granted while also not giving it more value than it deserves.

It is just skin and bones after all.

with love,


Jorie Parsons - February 24, 2015 - 3:36 am

i think it reads just lovely. thank you for sharing; beautiful, strong woman! this is amazing…YOU are amazing. <3

Steph Henschel - February 24, 2015 - 2:27 pm

This is absolutely gorgeous. I love it- not just the idea of constructing a poem from journals throughout the years, or that you pulled this poem comprised of lines from old journals out of an old journal and then had the courageous vulnerability to share it- but mostly your sweet, genuine heart boldly scribing raw heartbeats across the page. It is a thing of beauty, and thank you for sharing. xo.

Thuy Nga Vu - February 24, 2015 - 5:18 pm


Lauren D'Auria - February 25, 2015 - 11:09 pm


Ja Starr - February 27, 2015 - 3:00 am

so cool, Sarajane! love

Joanna Woodrum - March 2, 2015 - 1:53 pm

I love this so much. It’s beautiful and just so good – hard to even describe, but I love it. Love the whole idea of it.

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