Here’s A Page From My Journal (And it’s Not What You’d Expect)
You think journaling is this soft experience, drenched in the smell of essential oils, done behind foggy windows and with just enough light to see the page? Let me challenge this visual.
Let me introduce you to three pages of my diary. Three pages that I wrote in less than 12 minutes, driven by a storm of emotions. No edits, just direct transcription. You can see the photos below.
Tuesday, 13 January 2026
I am angry at the world. I can’t even pinpoint the thing I’m angry at and I worry it’s not just one thing.
Everyone talks about the value of families, but rarely, if ever makes the effort to show up consistently. Not to send money, not to show up with excuses of being busy and to guilt trip others with just how much they “do it for the family” but to actually just be there, telling stupid jokes, sharing memories, singing badly to a favourite song or commenting on a movie they’re watching with their families because something from the plot made their soul fire up.
I’m angry at people for not looking to discover the hidden corners of others’ souls, for not willing to go deep into conversation that last for hours and have no other purpose but to bind two hearts together.
I’m angry at the relentless search for more, more, more. More clothes, more cars, bigger houses, more food, more drink, more money, more lovers, more. always more. Always new.
I’m angry at the constant deadlines, the never-ending projects, the calendar full of events, timed appointments, clock-ticking, soul-compressing rush towards nothing that actually matters.
I’m angry at the arrogance. The entitlement. You think you deserve something? Nonsense! Neither one of us is born with a deserving organ. We’ve got lungs, kidneys, stomachs, but there is not a single “deserve” organ in anyone. We earn shit. Sometimes we earn it because we’re born in a specific country, or because we’re lucky to know someone who has enough and is willing to give. But no one owes us anything.
I’m angry at the praise and attention given to low life. To people who are known to be evil. To people whose values are soiled. I’m angry because we see them for who they are but instead of punishing them by ignoring until they correct their ways, we keep watching. So they keep performing the circus act their lives are and we keep clapping – by giving them our attention.
I’m angry that it became unacceptable to reprimand someone’s bad actions, just because they’re bad. We bitch online, turning into useless little whiners, instead of having the courage to stand tall and say clearly “What you’re doing is wrong”.
I’m angry that we continue to let bad things happen because we’re too afraid to speak up or even worse – because the law says it’s not our place to interfere.
We find common decency remarkable these days, because we made it scarce!
I am angry, because we know enough from history to do better and be better, yet we continue to allow the same idiotic policies, the same foolish behaviour. I am angry because we spend time looking at who’s offended instead of practicing the very values we keep printing on leaflets & writing on walls.
I’m angry because our apathy has created a world that I don’t want to live in. And yet, there is so much beauty out there in lakes, and hills, and flowers, and trees, and sunsets, and mornings. In dewy grass and crisp morning air. In tasty bread from stone ovens and rich wine.
But I’m too wrapped up in the BS we have collectively created, and I’m angry at you for trapping me, and at me, for staying.
If this made you feel something — even if that something was discomfort — that’s the point. That’s what honest writing does.
If you, too, feel like sometimes journaling is about to look like this, then join the newsletter.
I run regular journaling challenges: 30 days of showing up on the page, exactly like this. No performance, no filters, no essential oils. Free places are open to everyone.
You don’t have to be ready. You just have to be willing.