Dear Journal,

I don’t know about you, but the journal I kept when I was younger, I did for attention. I bought the pinkest, prettiest, most beautiful journal and used the fluffiest, pinkest, pen. I hearted my “I”s instead of dotting them, and wrote about boys I hoped would one day find it. Honestly, I think I did it because the only knowledge I ever had of keeping a journal was one day becoming praised with it… Enter Anne Frank and all of the trashy teen novels I would read. It just seemed relevant. 

Now… Sometimes I would write that my mom was a bitch, or my sister was a bully, or my brother had “cooties,” but it never really granted me that satisfaction that I hoped it would. 

I would then forget about it two days after purchase. 

Now enter the modern day white girl of a middle to upper class background. She consumes her avocado toast post photographing it, goes to ainsworth to meet the same boys she already knows, and purchases the newest Lululemon leggings. She sticks to routine. And that’s cool too. 

One thing she does keep secret are her apps, her current dating status, if she’s talking to fuck boy in her phone, and of course, those selfies she has in her camera roll. 

Your google search. 

Run. 

Your phone is your vessel. It’s your secrets it’s your communication. It is your diary. 

I wonder what would happen if we took what we do in our phones and in our mind and put it out there for the world?