Dear blog, it just isn’t the same, but I still love you.

A couple of weeks ago, I read through my old journals. Maybe that sounds like a waste of time, or maybe it sounds super boring, but neither of the two are true. Reading through my old journal entries was absolutely incredible. Within the pages of my own writing, I saw the evolution of my own character. And the most amazing part about it is how I didn’t realize it at the time.

When I was in elementary school, writing stories about best friends and illustrating each of their wardrobes, I didn’t realize that I’d still see an importance in the same thing years later. Sure, I don’t draw outfits for characters now, but I still believe that outfits can say a lot. That more than words can be used to say things.

When I was in middle school, I didn’t realize that my poems and thoughts were asking questions. I had been attempting to answer questions. Attempting to make sense of the world. Yet really, I wondered why people chose to pursue things they weren’t passionate about and why people became wrapped up in things they didn’t truly believe in.

And now, as I write as a high school student, I don’t realize that I’m answering the questions I posed in middle school. Through the exploration of my own writing, I developed opinions. I formed thoughts and values and beliefs and ideas. I hadn’t realized how my writing progressed. How I began as a little girl who loved style and humor and friendship. How I changed into a skeptic who questioned the world around her. How I continue to make sense of it through this wonderful journey of writing.

If you asked me why I write, I could give you many answers.

I write to inspire the world.
I write to have a voice.
I write because it’s natural. Because whenever I feel any sort of emotion, it only feels right to pick up a pen.

But I also write to learn. I write to explore and discover and remember and travel. And even if this blog gains followers, I’ll forever be loyal to my journals. 

Because a journal is something I carry with me through these journeys. A journal has ink smudges and loopy handwriting and creases in the pages and scribbles over words. A journal, just like a blog, is an art form. But they both tell very different stories, even if the words are exactly the same.


I’m not one of those people who hates the internet.  Actually, reading through my journals gave me a new hope for this blog.  Maybe if I read this years from now, I’ll understand something that I never knew before.  I’ll enter a new world.  I’ll see a computer screen full of beautiful nostalgia.  Years from now, this blog could speak entirely different words to me.  And that is something I find truly incredible.

Keep writing,

Paige ♥


Letters to you.

Whenever I start something new, I become so focused on it. I’m passionate about it to the point where it’s practically all I think about. And with a combination of this blog, a new story I started writing, and a new hobby I picked up, it’s pretty clear to me that I should probably be spending more time on my homework. But when I have something to write, I write. At this very moment, I have a ton of other things I should be doing aside from blogging. It’s been so long since I’ve blogged, though, and I had this desire to write that just wouldn’t go away.

Do you ever have this fearless, anxious feeling when it seems as if you’re about to do something totally crazy yet totally worth it? When you’re at the edge of taking a huge leap of faith, and your heart is full of so much hope that you can hardly sit still? When you’re just so jittery and scared and excited and happy and a little unsure?

On Friday, I wrote love letters to strangers. I got this idea from More Love Letters is such an incredible organization. I started writing love letters because I love to write, and I love to inspire people. I love to spread hope. But also, I started writing love letters because I really, really love getting mail. Nowadays, everyone knows that letters are hard to come by. With texts and emails and blogs, papers and envelopes get forgotten. Letter writing is significant to me because it’s an art form beyond the words on the pages. It’s an art form beyond the sentences and paragraphs. I believe that there is art within the way people dot their “i”s. I believe there is art within the loops and slants of handwriting, within the smudges of ink and the creases of pages. So I gathered up some paper, colorful pens, envelopes, and a sheet of sparkly heart stickers, and made my way to a coffeeshop with one of my best friends.


(a letter written by my friend Kelsey)

To me, the most interesting thing about writing love letters to strangers is the fact that they’re not actually strangers. Not really. Everyone is unique, different, and original. And yet everyone is also a lot alike. Someone out there is feeling the same way as you are. And the fact that we can use letters to spread these messages is truly amazing. You won’t know who finds the letter. The person who finds the letter won’t know who wrote it. Somehow, that makes it even better. It makes it even better knowing that someone who doesn’t even know you understands you and believes in you.


(a letter written by me)

With each letter I wrote, I stepped closer to the edge of a mountain. I’m about to leap. I have this idea that’s completely all or nothing. On Taylor Swift’s Speak Now album, she said, “I don’t think you should wait, I think you should speak now.” To me, this refers to so much more than literal speaking. To me, “speaking” means taking chances. Speaking means chasing a dream that perhaps seems a little bit crazy. Speaking means throwing your ideas out into the world, not knowing what kind of response you’ll get. Speaking means doing rather than dreaming, creating rather than imagining. Speaking means taking that leap of faith, stepping from the edge of the mountain and diving in, not knowing whether you’ll fall or soar.

Speaking means doing everything you always dream about doing, but always hesitate to do. Don’t wait. Don’t ponder any longer if it’s something you truly believe in. The clock is ticking, and the world can’t wait to hear your words. ♥

Dream big,