The Introduction

A great writer once told me that “whatever you wouldn’t want your friends and family reading, THAT’S the stuff that will make you famous.” Admittedly, it’s pretty good advice. Nobody wants their Mom knowing about hilarious masturbation antics or a sexual attraction to your cousin, but it does make for a damn good read.

I’ve decided to take this suggestion to heart, regardless of the (most definite) consequences. A few days ago I stumbled upon my diaries/journals from age 6 to age 23. I asked for a diary on my fifth birthday and have been an avid journal writer ever since. For those of you that haven’t been, congratulations! Because reading your own attempt at philosophy, circa age 13, is nauseating. It is sincerely awful. I flipped through hundreds of pages in throbbing shame. It is self-centered, overly dramatic, angsty garbage. I puked no less than 7 times.
For those of you who did keep journals, even half-assed ones, I strongly suggest burning them. Just burn them. Celebrate being an adult with a bon-fire of broken bindings, latches and childhood dreams. It’s better than re-living it, you have my word.

In short, I’ve decided to keep a weekly blog, updated every Sunday by Midnight. Instead of burning my shameful, acne-ridden past- I’m going to post it for all to see. I will muse on one line a week, taken from different periods of my discomforting, little life. No editing will be allowed, all miss-spellings and awkward views on current events stay in place. Think of this blog as a cautionary tale against allowing children to write.

It won’t be easy and I won’t enjoy it, but I hope you do.

Thanks and Sincerely,
Courtney R. Wick

PS: NO names have been changed to protect the innocent, because nobody leaves adolescence with their innocence in-tact.