I have this journal you see. It’s a magical journal, one that transcends time and space.
As I flip through the pages, I see life from a younger, vibrant me. Whether this younger me makes more sense than older me does, I’ll never know. Perhaps I viewed the world differently as I viciously scribbled ideas into this journal, hoping to make an everlasting thought immortal. Or maybe the younger me knew that I would one day reflect on those thoughts and rampant imaginations to remind myself that I still have it? That no matter how dull and numb I became, I would have a fire in me that would rival even the most massive of suns? Perhaps I sent myself a message from the past so it may direct my future, but maybe that’s for tomorrow’s battles.
The strange thing is that this journal seems to pick at me from time to time. As I’m sleeping it nudges itself to my ear and whispers “Leo…fulfill me”, to which I reply “Journal, it is 3:00am. You’re drunk. Go back to sleep.” I never make much sense in my sleep, but the same can be said when I’m awake at times. The journal seems to be a constant reminder and valuable grounding for the ideas that were never made into action. Perhaps in a different dimension, Parallel Leo is taking all within the journal and rolling with it, illuminating his universe with creativity.