Journal Entryless...?
No, that would be stupid.

So here we go.

Journal, dear journal, you won't believe what happened to me today!
Actually, you will, since you don't really possess that thing that generates doubt, but today, dear diary, I mean, journal, I fell in Love. And no, dear journal, the capital letter on Love is not a typo. I didn't fall in love. I fell in Loooove.

Aren't you happy for me? Oh, I knew you would be. Do you Love anything, dear journal? No? You should, though. It's great. It feels great. I'm overjoyed. I can feel a stream of pure happiness going through my body. Reaching ever bit of my flesh and bone.

And yet, dear journal, I don't recall the object of my profound Love. Don't try to look surprised, dear journal, since you don't have the thing that generates surprise either. But as I was saying, I don't recall it. It's as if the Love I feel existed by itself, and it sure feels right that way. As if the Love I feel is so fulfilling that is has no need for an object to rely upon, as it is self sufficient. It's feels right but I know it's weird. It must be. I know, for what society is in me, that it is not right but that knowledge doesn't make me enjoy it any less or feel the slightest bit of guilt.

And so, dear journal, I think I Love Love.

Or at least I Love...