Today, marks my 400th diary entry. I truly cannot fathom that for the last two years I have made an avid attempt to document the simplest parts of my life. My inner thoughts, daily happenings, and the ups and downs of a young girl becoming an old woman. I have been through much. And yet, so little has changed. I have grown, yet stayed the same. I am more of a person than I was, built on experiences of a rural Alaskan lifestyle. I've changed philosophies, enlightened myself on the hardships of adulthood, and partook in a collection of ordinary days- that when put together have made quite an extraordinary story. The winds aren't changing yet, but my style of writing is. I'm not sure if I'm growing up, or just growing older. But whatever it is, whatever my story is going to tell, I want to continue to document it. I am 21 now. I have become accustomed to the ways of no running water, wood chopping, and snowey springs. It's beautiful, and now ordinary. I'm still lost in it's beauty- but not in a way of intrigue, rather in a way of comfort. I suppose in a way it's slowed my writing. I don't document as much as I used to, merely because I don't find things as exciting as I used to. I have delved more deeply into my mind than I should have (hence my recent drowning in self pity). I hope to pull myself out of it soon. I want to become inspired again. And the only thing that can provoke such emotion is the presence of nature. A presence I can only find if I choose to. And at this moment I am choosing to.
