Dear Diary

I woke up today and decided to review my journal (or diary, whatever you call it) while listening to Silence by Khalid (I just missed listening to it, its been a minute) and there’s a pattern. All (or almost all) my entries start with “Dear Diary”. It's like I’m writing a letter to my diary in the hope she’ll write me back and give me answers to my questions. Or maybe I want to rant without being judged or someone being like “woowww…you did that? why did you do that?” blah blah blah… When I have a good day I start with “Hello/hi dear diary”, out of politeness, you know.. but when I’m angry or sad I dive straight into it. No greetings, just ranting and when I’m done I remember I did not greet her but ooppps, she’ll have to understand. And when its been long I have to check on how she has been since I ‘escaped’. Sometimes I don’t want to share, not even with her. No bad blood though, we good. So I just bottle it up and throw it away out in the deep sea hoping it’ll never come back but if it does, well, well, well, guess we’ll cross the bridge once we get there.

I laughed at some entries because they were funny and petty, I rejoiced at the small stuff and also got sad because of other small stuff. They may not be a big deal to me now but back then, whoosh, I had it rough, or so I thought. It reminded me of Anna Frank in The Diary of a Young Girl, she wrote about everyone and everything, boy if you stood on her way at any point. She would write about exactly what she was feeling and I caught myself creating scenarios of who might have been the characters in question. Too bad I don’t write the specifics. Just something vague and ambiguous, to throw someone out of the path. What if she was alive by the time they found her diary and decided to publish it. Walking down the streets and behold, your diary is on the front page of the magazines as the hottest thing in town and everyone is scrambling to get hold of the available copies before they run out. I would be embarrassed if ever such a thing happened. Not that it has never happened but I’m still waiting for it to blow up. Whenever that will be I guess but I pray to heavens it never happens. I think I would want to be buried with mine. Those experiences are dear to me and I’d still be embarrassed of some things whether there or not.

Apparently, I wrote about the day I discovered Pinterest, and damn was I happy on that day. I think that was the happiest thing I ever wrote about because I stayed up the whole night just scrolling. It was like I a found a long-lost love or I had been in the dark for too long but then voila, light.

I wrote about victories and struggles, favorite places, books, letters to myself, goals (I never got to achieve some or chickened out in the middle), achievements, silly crushes (I honestly could have done better but whatever), gratitude notes, daily affirmations…

Then I wrote about my selenophile, I shed a tear, it was sweet, she is just next door and she’s a gem, she made be love poetry and she is a good poet. If you haven’t read any of her piece then you’re missing out.https://spaceage.art.blog/?fbclid=PAAaYZQmjpa8yBIwaMhLdgGb_hpWMUSJsbfyNTa45-HIFznOJ4HwhKMYU7u70  (you're welcome) .We could talk about books, poems, the sky, music and all sorts of things. She understands in ways that I cannot explain and just knows what to say in each situation. She’ll write poems for you every round of the sun, and letters (when you read this, please write me one, thanks) My 3 AM person.

I am grateful for everyone I’ve come across and especially those who’ve made it to my diary. And if you did something that did not sit well with me, trust me I wrote about it and I might have hated you at the moment but anyway. That’s that.

Looking back to years before my golden one, I am leaving my prayers. Why I got here, I’ve no idea but here I am. Stronger than ever leaving my dreams, I am learning, I am growing and the process ain’t easy. I have learnt to face my fears, accept my flaws and made a pact with the demons. Cry, complain, fall but get up and dust yourself. Some things seemed far fetched but I got them, I did. I am proud of you dear self and the far you’ve come and the farther you are going. Be brave.

I still want to upgrade my writing and have a pretty journal, one I will glue little pictures, dry leaves and flowers, paint maybe, just like the ones on Pinterest. If you’ve seen them you might have an idea of what I’m talking about. At this point I’m listening to Million Years Ago- Adele and I love it when she says “Sometimes I just feel it’s only me, Who can’t stand the reflection that they see, I wish I could live a little more….” Her music is out of this world, It’s soo relatable.

Lemme raise a toast to the book that helped me most (more relatable if you have watched the Little Rascals)

Enough about my diary or whatever I was talking about, I’m still struggling with this thing called consistency and whoosh I’m trying to build this small habits and I’ll be kind to myself. Baby steps they call them, till we get there. But I’m enjoying the process and getting to recreate pictures from my vision board.

See you soon loves.