Dear Diary

As a teenager, I would always put my deepest thoughts or feelings in a diary. I always made sure it was hidden well from all other eyes. It sat camouflaged amidst the mountain of my books and notebooks of various sizes. I never found out why our schools made us buy and carry so many note books, maybe it was the school's idea of strength training. But, I digress. Nobody but me could find this secret vault and unravel my most personal views, not that it had a secret password or PIN, but because people got so disgusted at the mess of my shelf, they did not want to look any further.

Yes, the diary was my vault. Whenever I thought life was unfair or someone was unjust to me, my diary was my only confidante. When I didn't win in the running race, I went to my diary. When my parents punished me because I initiated the gruelling battle of both wits and fists with my dear (not so dear in those times) brother, and tears ebbed and flowed from my eyes, I went to the diary. The diary was my refuge in times of "sorrow" (even the tiniest things could drive me to sorrow-land then) and also in times of joy. I was as loyal and committed to it as it was to me.

It is strange, I went to weep on the shoulder of an object, rather than a person. I felt the diary would somehow rid me off my woes. By the time I finished writing what I felt, I'd already be much lighter and then I could move on. The diary was my closest pal, it would not judge me like other humans could. It would not tell others about me, simply because it could not. As, I remember it, keeping a diary not only diffused the situation and soothed me, it also improved my writing.

Once one of my aunts caught me in the act, there I was sitting and writing my diary. She thought it would hurt my parents if they read it and she quite frankly said that many pages were rude. I was already forming the para that would go in next "Dear Dairy, it seems it is rude to write your feelings in the diary, but somehow its not rude if others take your personal diary and read it?" But, I think the fact that I had grown in age by then, somehow must have affected my decision. I manually shredded my friend and never saw it again.

It seems to me that in life too, I pursue friends that possess the same characteristics. I look for people who will reciprocate my loyalty, who will listen to me, who will act as a safety vault, one who will not feel the need to judge my actions and behavior. And I have found quite a few of them and I am thankful I am blessed. I really don’t ever need a diary anymore!