This past week, I finished up all pages in the notebook of my journal. The time with this journal spanned over 10 years, many life changes, and even more shopping and to-do lists. I thought I would go ahead and post my very first and my very last entry.

I’m wondering why there’s all this emphasis on maturity and growing up. I never wanted to grow up to begin with, and now I’m all upset because I acted irrationally and immaturely. I guess it’s because I’m worried about what effects it’s going o have in the long term, but . . . well . . . maybe it’s because I’ve ruined so many of these things in the past.
Well, this is it. The last page. We have moved in to our house (the one we bought!) so it’s obviously the end and beginning of an era. It’s only right that this journal should end, as well.
The house is perfect and adorable and requires so much work. I keep telling people that it’s like having a child–I’m exhausted all the time but I’m so happy.
. . .
What a boring, devoid of emotion entry for my final page. That’s okay. I’m excited about the new house and the new process of adulthood. I’m probably a different person from 2003. I’ve grown into the person I was afraid of, and I’m pretty sure I like myself a lot more, now.