I finished writing my diary last night. By which I mean it's filled, one end to the other.
I've been writing in it since Pi Day, 2002. I was seven at the time; now I'm 22. That's a full 65% of my life with this as my diary. During most of that time I wrote inconstantly and erratically, but it was always a thing I had around. Finishing it feels...weird.
Another journal was purchased long ago, so I won't be stopping entirely. In recent years I've also used various social media platforms and blogging sites to record my life, including this one. Nevertheless, I've found that private writing is more conducive to introspection than anything else, so for the time being that's not going anywhere.
