I have always considered writing a burden because it was tied to the constant stream of coursework I grew up with. With every essay submitted, there came a grade attached. That grade felt unsolicited; I would always prefer not knowing the grade than to be handed back judgment. When the score didn’t match the effort (or my ego), that’s when writing felt like a punishment. I felt misunderstood on the page and as a person.Â
Early last semester, I started journaling because I needed an outlet to express all the excess information I no longer wanted to be jailed in my skull. I never kept a journal growing up, fearing that my parents would snoop through my stuff, so college felt like the perfect time to do so. A journal was beneficial for me because I could dump my feelings about every other situation in my life without the fear of judgment, without committing to the responsibility of updating, and without feeling like I’m oversharing. I also hate remembering things that no longer serve me. Having a journal made it easier to let go.Â
I stopped journaling because I felt unsatisfied. I was just echoing my own thoughts to myself. All I did was affirm my own feelings without the perspective of others evaluating if my thoughts should be encouraged and executed or reevaluated and reframed. But, where else am I supposed to share?Â
With therapy only once a week, the advice never really stuck. Within a few hours, I’d slip back into my old patterns of thinking. Nothing felt anchored yet, and I couldn’t feel any real conviction towards the changes I was supposed to make.Â
The problems I face when journaling are why people cope by oversharing online via Twitter, Reddit posts, or Instagram story notes. What you write reflects what you believe, and the way you write reveals your behaviors behind those beliefs.Â
I always thought conforming to any kind of grammar system (AP journalism, academic structure, SAT English) was a step into this collective alienation. With generative AI, it further reinforces that by turning the individuality of voice into the same tone, cadence, and structure.Â
I don’t hate writing after all. I just fear what my voice will turn into once it exits my mind. The vulnerability of turning my soul into voice and my voice into words frightens me because it could be so easily corrected, if not by myself then by others. That correction has a chance of turning what I truly thought into an appropriation of myself.Â
Because once the words are out there, I’m out there too.
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