Keeping a journal

There is a singular, unspoken joy in putting pen to paper and watching the chaos of one's mind take the form of sentences and doodles. Keeping a journal is not merely a habit, it's an act of quiet rebellion against life clockworking by. In a world obsessed with broadcasting, podcasting, forecasting, typecasting,... keeping a journal is an inward act where you double as both creator and consumer.

Bliss lies in the silence that surrounds it. Unlike a conversation, there is no urgency to respond, no performance to maintain. One writes or sketches, and in that act, becomes. A journal doesn't judge, interrupt or scroll away. It holds your thoughts with patience, however wild, petty, brilliant or unformed they might be.

Happiness blooms not just in recording big 'events' but also in the mundane details: the way sunlight fell on the floor at 3 pm, the overheard joke at the chai stall.... More than a record, a journal is a friend - unerringly loyal, never bored by your repetitions, never resistant to your thoughts slipping this way or that. Reading old entries offers a peculiar kind of joy: embarrassment of past melodrama, surprises of forgotten insights... comfort of your continuity.