I bought a big fat diary years ago with a big strap over the cover that locks likes some old timey shoe buckle and I flipped to the first page and I wrote ‘Dear Diary, What the fuck” and then closed the thing never to open and write in it again but to I displayed it prominently on my shelf to look up at with a grin because there isn’t much else to say. Then I went to buy another diary a normal one this time that I would actually use and I wrote in it for a few days and after about a month got bored of it because I wrote the same damn thing in it everyday “Dear Diary, I slept like shit my neck hurts again my jaw doesn’t feel right my shoulder blades are all wrong I want to go the doctor but the doctor didn’t care and just says I should get my shot record caught up and the blood work looks fine and try a chiropractor and I go for a while he says to stretch and stuff and then he tugs my head around and I feel no better and the acupuncture lady across the hall is very nice and it is relaxing but I wish I could take the feeling home and hey maybe that’s it maybe I just need to relax but weed isn’t really my thing and neither is drinking and what else makes you relax maybe I’m holding onto all this unconscious tension causing the headaches maybe if I learned to let go then I could loosen up I’ll try a counselor because I guess psychologists as therapists don’t exist anymore or something and the first meeting the guys late to our zoom call and by his red eyes I think he might use the weed to chill right before our meeting and I explain my situation and he backs me up and says well are you sleeping as if its not the only thing I actually like to do and so I tell him about my diet and how I’m new to town and with nightshift its all pretty hard and this stumps the guy pretty much because his usual speal about sleep and sun and eating right and getting out don’t apply to me and so he comes up with breathing exercises and mindfulness and I say well thanks my instagram explore page is a big fan of those” and I keep this diary under the first one because even though its a little more wordy and has the dates and stuff organized it just doesn’t seem to say it all. And on my third diary I would just used a notebook and I would use it when I felt like it and I’d flip through it now and again and go over what I had already written and see where things have changed and write about that and with pretty much every entry I’d start with “Dear Diary, feeling better than I was so much better I have progressed here and in this way and here’s what’s going on lately yatta yatta” and its true I do feel better and the problems of old are diminished and my new problems resolve in general and maybe its just that your wants and wishes change as you do so there’s always something but I would take a break from my neck always hurting and all the headaches for starters and I’d realize this new diary doesn’t help with that anyway. The fourth diary doesn’t exist I just go back and read the other first one whenever I need a laugh and the combination of the first and the fourth diary works out the best so the other two can collect dust because a good spiteful grin and doing my best not to even think about it let alone write it down and ruminate over things has been the best medicine of all even though I bet those stretches the chiropractor gave me would work if I had done them more than two or three times tops