Alright. Enough of writing about the things that weigh down my heart for now. In my last entry, I spoke about the notebook I want to create with my own hands. Today, I plan to begin cutting the pages. In my mind, I see it stretching to a thousand sheets. This isn’t a task to be finished overnight. It will be like that gigantic scrapbook I once made: months of patience before it finally took shape.

And of course, there will be delays. Work, other activities, and the heavy tides of low moods that so often crash into me, dragging everything to a standstill. Still, I will keep going, slowly. I have three months to complete this journal before 2026 arrives.

There is a habit that has haunted me for years: I tend to abandon notebooks halfway through a month whenever I grow dissatisfied with their theme. Too specific, too demanding. I want perfection. I want the final result to look exactly like the picture in my head. And when I fail, when I forget to update the pages I swore I’d keep daily, I feel crushed. Sometimes I lose the thread completely. Weeks pass before I remember: oh, that notebook… the one I used back then. hHahaha!

This time, I want to face that flaw. This time, I will choose one notebook and stay with it for the whole year. No more new, beautiful notebooks. I’ll ban myself from buying them. Can I really do that? It feels almost impossible. Perhaps I can allow myself to buy one, but only to keep it untouched until I’ve truly finished the one I’m working on.

My journals and notebooks are scattered everywhere, filled with words in too many places. I’ve never been able to stay loyal to just one book. Chaotic. But this time, I want to create something freer: one single journal with no rules, no themes. A place where I can do anything I wish in the moment. If I feel like covering it in stickers, I will. If I crave art, I’ll paint. If I want collages, I’ll glue pieces of my days together. It doesn’t matter if it makes no sense. The only rule: keep going.

And yet, I wonder... what name will I give to this book? For now, I’ll start by cutting the paper. I won’t record the process. I’ll simply do it. Mindfully. Quietly. Just living in the act itself.

I’ve noticed something: I feel calmer, lighter, and less burdened when I write in a journal without any theme at all. I stop caring whether it looks beautiful or not. I simply let it flow with my mood. If I’m angry, let the handwriting look like the scratch marks of a wolf. If I feel heavy or lazy, let the words fall inconsistent and unkempt, so different from the times I write neatly, carefully, almost beautifully.

Mood… oh, mood… Maybe this time I’ll call my journal Mood. How does that sound? Or perhaps… I should think of a name that carries the weight of mood and something more, woven together.

Beneath the Endless Moodflow

Sofie Luthor Journal 2026

Beneath the endless moodflow, I find myself drifting... sometimes weightless, sometimes pulled under by tides I cannot name. Each page I write is a fragment of me, a whisper of what I feel but cannot say aloud. The ink bleeds like quiet confessions, spilling across the paper in patterns only my heart understands...

Here, there are no rules, no need for beauty or order. Anger scratches itself into the lines like claws... sorrow drips in uneven strokes... and joy bursts in scattered, chaotic bursts of color. Everything is allowed... everything flows...

I do not write to be seen, nor to be understood. I write to be lost, and to be found again, in the quiet currents of my own becoming... Beneath the endless moodflow, I am both the storm and the calm, the question and the answer, the fleeting shadow and the light it leaves behind...