Chapter Text
Hm.
I fear I'm not sure what to write.
Heart says "journaling" will improve my emotional intelligence. However, I am unconvinced as of yet of its merits. After all, it's just writing words on a paper, is it not?
Then again, the Bible is just words on a paper, and most of the world decided to make a religion out of it. (I am aware there is more to the situation than that. I am generalizing to make a point.)
Though I'm not sure why I'm trying to make that point. I'm writing in a notebook, for Tesla's sake. And I believe the point of a journal such as this is for recording one's private thoughts, and therefore I have no audience. And without an audience, there can be no persuasion.
Perhaps I am the audience?
There you go, Heart. There's your epiphany. Is that what you were hoping for?
I suppose that was a touch caustic. But I will not apologize, for again, I have no audience, and therefore no one to apologize to. Although the argument stands that the fact I am speaking at all demands some sort of audience, which would in turn merit an apology, whether the audience is theoretical or not.
This journal was a terrible idea, wasn't it?
I already get too stuck in my own head without having my hand run a transcript.
The privacy of such a book is dubious as well. Countless are the stories of teenage girls suffering humiliation and heartache due to the perusal of their diaries by friends or family members. I even remember a time when Heart himself suffered a similar breach while we were teenagers. Soul still flinches when he brings it up.
Indeed, our history is long and complex. Perhaps I will write it all one day, if journaling does prove beneficial in the end. But for now I think it would be best to start small.
Signed, Mind