(no subject)
I've begun the daunting task of going through my belongings and attempting to pack/throw away most of them. I was cleaning out my nightstand and came across a little pink book I didn't recognize right away. I opened it up and saw what was written inside and realized it was my old diary. I felt horrible the second after. I almost felt like a mother finding my daughter's diary and opening it. I started remembering the things I wrote and the whole reason I wrote those things down was so that I wouldn't have to remember. I had to immediately get up and leave the room. I couldn't stand to be around it. Last night, after I was sure everyone was asleep, I took it out to the edge of our property and burned it on top of a dirt pile. I felt so much better, clearer. Is that weird? I mean, reacting like that to a diary? I'm not sure how to feel on this one.