Being alone is not always the same as being lonely ALSO learn to say goodbye (also know as an ode to a Journal)
I am attached to my habits. I am completely obsessed with my personal space and my possessions; nothing valuable of course, books and fountain pens, old little objects, unwanted by many, but for me, a treasure. I keep a diary where I plan my day, I collect images and ephemera, and every time the journal is on its last page I begin to get uncomfortable. From one side I want to begin a new journal (it is always so nice to start from scratch on ivory blank pages) but on the other hand all the used pages, full of dreams and memories, full of lived life, sometimes seem a better option. It is like taking the sure path, instead of the unsure. It is like going for the comfortable, the known, the usual. It is like staying in the old journal would be like being with a friend. Someone who knows you The all-time dilemma. The old journal is like that one friend you never find, the one who will never demand anything from you, the one who would never leave you alone. But dwelling is never good. It i