A time forgotten…

I was reading my old diary a few days ago and some articles I wrote a few years back. It felt like visiting an old friend. Familiar, yet distant.

I’ve always liked keeping a traditional diary. Yes, technology is helpful with the additional features, which does wonders to the aesthetic appeal. But I still love how a traditional diary reveals the tiny details about you, at the point of time when the article was penned.

The atrocious handwriting (still is now)… dog-eared pages, faded ink, gave so much character to the diary. Though it has been many years apart, I can still identify my character traits in the many entries throughout the years. How I smiled knowingly and surprisingly at the thoughts I once owned and still do.

People say you lose your innocence with u grow up. But I believe that we just forget what it feels like to be innocent. To be in the moment, when now is forever. The ideals once held, visions waiting to be rekindled, are all lying in the forgotten pages in the diary.

Try putting your feelings in black and white. Any kind of them… it’s a space where u can be honest to just you. No fear of scrutiny, or judgment. Those moments are invaluable. It tells you who you are when u feel like losing yourself, when u can hardly remember what it feels like 10 or 20 years ago. Especially those in your teens, this is the time when life feels like forever, and surging emotions are like daily bread.

Lock them in ink.