My friends and family probably all think I’m a hoarder. I snatch free stickers, receipts, business cards, and even kombucha labels like it is my full-time job. One person's trash is this girl's treasure. I collect these scraps in a disorganized binder in my closet, and when inspiration strikes, my gas station receipts become gold.

This hobby has been dubbed Junk Journaling on social media. It’s a low-pressure version of scrapbooking that embraces imperfection. I’ve turned to this method to transform everyday scraps into memory keepers. Where traditional scrapbooking is tidy and curated, junk journaling relies on mess and spontaneity.

My mother introduced me to scrapbooking. She kept my entire childhood folded in her books, and I inherited the hobby.

I am not an artist by any means. My friends agree that even my stick figures are laughable, proving creative pursuits have never come easily to me. I envied my friends who doodled on worksheets during class; meanwhile, I felt ashamed to attempt anything that would reveal my lack of an artistic eye. When I took up scrapbooking, I fell into the same trap. My mother's books that I grew up looking at seemed reminiscent of the Mona Lisa in comparison to the pages I was creating. When I started adding ticket stubs or receipts to my pages, I realized that their value as memories held more weight than their appearance. I started collecting more and more mementos, regardless of how ugly they may be, and began layering them with the photos I was trying to scrapbook. Free from the constraints of a “pretty page,” I finally started to explore the art form without judging myself.

This habit protected my wallet along with my ego. While my mom spent hundreds investing in craft paper, stickers, and printing photos from CVS, I only had to invest in a journal. Instead of buying my supplies, I take scraps from my life that I used to throw away and use them to capture the moment in time they represent.

Watching people on social media create their own journal spreads inspired me to give it a go. Kalli, one of my favorite creators on TikTok, helped me embrace the fun and joy that I’ve found in imperfection. In her videos, she rips and glues scraps of paper and receipts imperfectly and a bit haphazardly, but in the end, her pieces are still well-loved and gorgeous, despite the messiness of her methods. Watching her journal like this taught me beauty wasn’t in perfection; it could be found in the process.

So I let go. I stopped trying to make every page “pretty.” I started gluing in ticket stubs, receipts, food wrappers—ugly things, but packed with memories. I began to explore color and texture. I found ways to make the junk prettier. My messy pages slowly started to resemble the “pretty pages” I once believed I’d never emulate.

I still don’t consider myself an artist, but I no longer consider myself a perfectionist either. My journey through my junk journals led me to realize that perfection on the first try is simply unrealistic. Art is also a deeply personal pursuit, and doesn’t need to be compared to others. My junk journals will never rival my mother's scrapbooks, or even the other junk journals I see on my TikTok feed, but these creations hold something much more powerful: they hold memories.