I am not an avid journalista, but my diaries as a young girl and becoming interested in the boy next door are sweet. That, along with a narrative of what I ate that day (should have become a chef!) is a time capsule that evokes emotions of coming of age.
Later journals certainly tread in much more complicated experiences, however, I hold on to my few diaries and few journals as a way of remembering what it was like during those times.
It would be difficult to sever my roots.