Diaries

As I was browsing my old stuff, I found my compilation of old, worn out diaries. They were of different designs, different colours and different sizes but nobody how they look like they still hold some of my memories in the past even those that I have tried to forget and have already forgotten. They remind me such things whenever I forgot and I think that something is missing in me. I am a person who likes to go back to my past at times, I want to read about what happened to me at that time and I want to know why. Every detail retells the story of my life…

I didn’t read everything at the same time. I wasn’t able to do so. I only read two of my latest diaries. Maybe it wasn’t how much I had to read that scared me, it is the fact that when I do read my old diaries, I will be able to feel what I felt before and I might go back to my depressed self. I have been melancholic before and I think I am better now. I have moved on despite the fact that I have been broken so many times and almost tried to end this heart from beating. I used to long for death and I used to play with fire but there are no games involved now. I no longer need one to have something better…

But of course, I will still be able to find traces of things that I regret and I never want to remember in my new entries. These days, I don’t write and make my own diaries anymore. I simply blog it. I don’t write about most of the things that happen in my daily life anymore, instead I try to vent using poems and some things that I find interesting. Of course, I still do write about some memorable things that happen to me. Some memories annoy me, some make me sad, some make me wish I have done something else back then but I think if I did then I might not have had what I have now. Pieces of me keep falling apart. They keep reminding me of what has gone and what has passed…

Relationships have had their end and started, some ended with bitter endings while some tragically. I have lived my life recklessly, never caring for others and just being selfish about things. I have learned my lesson and I learned it well. As I continue to write this, I feel a little emotional. I have mixed feelings at the moment and this makes me difficult to understand. Admitting my flaws, my mistakes, my faults, my downfall, my defeat has lead me to this. Struggles, hardships, mishaps, troubles and everything else are usual parts of me…

I read about him, I read about you, I read about them. I relived situations, I imagined things, I wandered and drifted away with it. Everything I wrote seem to be like a portal through time, a time machine that can take me back and bring me here. My sentiments seem to go on forever. The possibilities are endless. All good things must come to an end so some memories are like roads that are missing it’s pieces and with that, they can never be rebuilt again. My diaries may have affected me this way but I know it’s for the best. Diaries have their value. To me, they remain windows to my past. I realize and accept the fact that I am no longer complete and that somehow fragments have broken me but I know that it will not prevent me from being happy and finding peace within me…

A photo of some of my old diaries (The ones that I still have until this very day that is...)