I contradict and lie. I speak about mastering the body and sit here, smoking a cigarette, staring into the sun, drinking an ice cold Fanta. I look forward to the next few months, the summertime. when does it officially start – I’m not too sure. Perhaps it’s a feeling.

For me, there is two seasons: The Hibernation season, and the Socializing season. Or that’s how I want to see it. I always said to myself, I’d love to work for three months then go on holiday for three. So far, in my adult life free from semesters, terms and structured years I’ve worked for near enough 7 and have had no holiday. Is this the fate of my future and reality! No! It mustn’t happen. I saw something that suggested, sad people talk about themselves more than that of a happy person. It makes me think, when have I journaled? During my times of adverse feelings of happiness. I sit here and talk about myself every time time I write – I’m not going to contradict or lie – I am consciously writing about myself, my feelings and the current reality of I. People preach about the power of journaling, for me it is powerful yes but powerful for what purpose, what is it powerful in doing. I think of it now, as a coping mechanism – when I find myself in times of trouble (or perceived trouble) I turn to it. I turn to it to bring back my purpose, my soul and just, me. Historically it’s worked, I find myself busy, motivated seeking a life of living – I know this because the routine, the habit fades out, no longer do I seek to write my thoughts as I am too busy doing something else, much more fun, much more important.

Hibernation, doesn’t mean I stop. If anything I do more, I make the sacrifice to turn myself in, to turn into myself. I spend this time, looking deep within, i begin to journal, I look to challenge my own thinking, I reflect on what came before and how I’ll use it to go forward. I enjoy this, I enjoy delving into and understanding what has happened, why it happened and how it happens in other people. I experienced something the other day, strange but nonetheless pleasant nor uninteresting . I then watch a film, I see what happened to me unfold out in front of my very eyes. Now I’ve gone to watch this film on several occasions before, would I have seen what I saw, if I had not had that experience before. Perhaps journaling isn’t a coping mechanism, just another skill in itself, a tool to make things easier and understand it all. I contradict myself, right then, here and now