Filling a journal can be so rewarding, but also sad. My first journal I ever filled after having started many and then getting angry at myself and throwing them away started out with me basically saying that I was going to do this one right. And then through time I would read back at previous points in the journal and hate myself for what I wrote but I kept going. By the end, it was all suicide notes. I was planning to leave that journal behind for my family to have after I end it. But now I look at it sometimes proud that I didn’t end it. Sometimes, I’m sad that I didn’t end it. But the thing is, I wanted to burn that journal so many times over the course of writing it, but I didn’t. And sometimes I feel good about that. I realized you have to live for these moments, and when I’m scared I might kill myself, I remember the journal and how I filled it up all the way. I remember how rewarding that was, and I hope I can do the same with my life. There is no wrong way to fill a journal, just like there’s no wrong way to experience life just as long as you don’t regret anything.