Relax. It’s nothing exciting. I’m in my 50s and life has become a tad less thrilling.

Today this is what I wrote and cracked up with myself. Emily is my niece.

If anything, my diaries are random collections of thoughts that I would otherwise not express publicly. Mostly self deprecating or self loathing but almost always boring as bat shit rambles from ever since I was 15.

One day I’ll pass on from this earth and there’ll be over 20 journals filled with my ramblings and adventures in my life; my stresses, anxieties. They may find my journals in a dumpster bin or selling at some opp shop for 50c a journal. If anyone reads them they’ll think I was a mad woman. Living in her own head most of the time.

Then they’ll do an internet search and find this blog plus all my videos scattered in the ether web only to realise that they probably can’t tell what happened on each day of each month of each year because this nutter hadn’t written much about what was happening in the EXTERNAL world as much as writing yet another plan for diet and exercise. Or having a whinge about something or another. 🤣