I looked through my old journal entries from 2016 and found a gem. It’s perfectly silly and disorganized, which is what you’d expect from a piece of freewriting. You just write in sentences and paragraphs without stopping, and free your mind—the rain will stop and the sky will clear.
As far as journals go, this habit [has] helped me so much. Letting go of feelings, unloading some of my thoughts and [emotions] when my head is crammed with a jumble of random thoughts and questions that don’t even make sense—alone or together. For an observer, the act of writing could be more intriguing than the act of listening or reading. [Is it] the direction of the information?
By writing, we produce thoughts on paper and in some ways it’s like getting a peek into someone else’s head. You could simply ask questions but the response coming [your way] would be processed thought.
There is beauty [to] freewriting that feels almost automatic. Writing thoughts as they come, like conversations to self, is a gift to those who can write. When no one else is around, perhaps it’s a survival skill that lets you maintain, keep intact the logical thought process or self-expression. [It is your place] to run, fall, [and fail] without anyone’s judgement, without consequences, without the need to validate what you write or be concerned about someone’s take on your views or simple definition of something. It’s one place where it’s sacred and protected. It’s a [place] where no one else can [write] but you.