between the lines.

Sherry did a similar exercise recently that got me thinking about what reactions I would get from certain people if they read my journal…I’m not talking about reading my blog, but about my handwritten journal...the one I refuse access to anyone. This is what I came up with.

You usually take your time to read, soaking up everything between the lines. But this time, you find yourself unable to slow down. Your eyes, a well oiled machine. Left to right, left to right, and on to the next line. You turn the page quickly. Tears stream down your face, not because the words you are reading are eloquently written or even organized in a proper fashion, but because you’ve never seen your value in such a raw form.

If you kept reading, you’d see that everything people rave about you is true. You’d learn that I, like most who know you, know what a treasure your friendship is. You’d see that I admire you. You’d learn that I want to build a comfortable home, be independent, and start traditions like you. You’d realize that I think you’re beautiful inside and out. And, you’d laugh when you read that I’m not just saying those jeans look good on your butt (ok, so maybe I don’t journal about your butt...cause that would be weird...but still, those jeans do look great).

After reading my journal you’d know that when I see you, I see a complete person. I don’t see a person satisfied with plateaus or hardships (and I definitely don’t see a person that uses those as an excuse), but I see a person who makes things happen. You’d see that I wish you saw yourself the way I do and that I get frustrated that you don’t.

The more you read the more you find that really you are an inspiration. Once you’re eyes reach the last word you close the journal, hopefully, with a better understanding of who you are between the lines of our friendship.