the diary...
so last night i was looking for some pictures under my bed in this box of memories i have stored under there. i grabbed what i thought was this particular box, and rummaged through it. well, as it turns out...it wasn't what i was looking for...but being the ADD person that i am, i got distracted and lost sight of the real reason i was under my bed in the first place. in the bottom of the box, i found my old diary. i haven't seen that thing in months...nor have i wanted to see it! i read a few entries...and one more than one occasion, had to remind myself that these were my words...this was my writing...these were my thoughts...it was the weirdest thing to me. i don't remember feeling that way....well i remembered once i really thought about it. but all that seems so distant to me. my brain works in mysterious ways...i tend to block most everything out. so anything that happened a couple of weeks ago is buried under the rest of all my memories, only to be remembered on lonely nights. also in this box, was a blank diary. my mother had bought it for herself years ago, but never wrote in it. so i took the liberty in making my mark in it. to me....this was a huge step. i haven't written in a diary, or much less CONSIDERED writing in a diary, since september 30 2003. that was my last diary entry before it was found and used against me. needless to say...the content of this diary will be appropriate for all ages and all eyes. i've already taken into consideration and accepted the fact that it will probably be found again, as most diaries almost always end up in the wrong hands at one point or another. maybe im being too cautious about all this...but im still scared. what can i say?