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119Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSuUEHGZmol
119Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgeTf3dhbM8
Day 1119Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtrxJEQuVgr
Dear Diary,
'Dear Diary'?
It is what I wrote. Except why does it astonish me? It is the manifestation of my subconscious mind throwing things as I write.
But the very phrase - 'Dear Diary', does not seem to come from me, not from the deep down of myself. It does not quite fit into the scene. It is awkward, upsetting, obscure, offsetting. The sharp edge of my pen is as acute as the knife that cuts through the bones, flesh and everything that crosses its path.
Cannot my pen dissect the mere phrase?
Of course, it is an abstract thought that a physical brain defecated. But it still exists in the material realms of my fucked up head. The electrical pulses fluctuating through my neurons created this nonsense, though it should have its genesis from myself. The parts of me that touch, feel, observe, analyse, calculate sensed this phrase somewhere. Should I stick this pen into me and probe for it. Then I would not be alive, would I?
Then,
Where was "DEAR DIARY"? Where was "DEAR DIARY"? Where was "DEAR DIARY"? Where was "DEAR DIARY"? Where was "DEAR DIARY"? Where was "DEAR DIARY"?
Hmm, I seem to get it now. I did see "Dear Diary", verbatim.
It was two years ago. We were new to this house. Mom told me to clean the attic. And I was there removing the boxes, in it was a book that seemed to be handwritten. It was a girl probably, who wrote it. She had written everything about her daily routines, things happening at school. I read two pages of it. Later we burnt it off in the fireplace. "Warm memories" creating warmth, eh?
It is obscure. Why would someone write things into a diary? And call it dear of things?
Is it because it is a copy of me, of the past that still exists through ink and paper?119Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp05yph5sV6
A diary being a copy that knows - what I am, my feelings, my opinions, sharing my secrets and also being a checksum for tomorrow to verify my authenticity?
And hence the dear of all?
If my inference is a fact, are you my dear, Diary?
Then, you are carrying the weighing emotions, thoughts, facts that are often imbalanced, confusing that would eventually change me. Then you are a reference to check for my betterment or worsened state.
I would write then, daily, everything that I am.
Dated: 23/ 01/ 2013
ns 15.158.61.48da2
