Dear Diary

Pen to paper, paper to pen I am sorry it came to an end.

In my early years in growing up, it wasn’t known to me as a family tradition that anyone in my female blood line kept/ wrote a journal or a dear diary. Wow! As I approached my early pre-teens it was a popular talked about thing among my peers. Finally I convinced myself to have a go at it though I did not have the store bought ones at the time. This being a new concept to me, where you wrote down everything that happened to you during the day; I was completely stunned what to write because in my mind, in my life nothing adventurous happens. 

Before it could even hit the ground running, the dear diary idea came to a squash. With not even half of my diary written up, I stalled, apart from having nothing to write about, it was too time consuming. Not that it was only just time consuming, when it was bedtime in my house it was bedtime. There were no ifs, buts’ maybe or negotiation, worse yet to hear it was to write that nonsense. Luckily, I had lovely a sister to make things worse, of course out of fastness and knowing that she could not get to read what I wrote she would sell me out of pure meanness. 

Well, if there was any privacy in our room then, there was none now. Thanks Sis!

Courtesy my caring sister, that was the end of phase one of attempting to have a dear diary. As I matured, I felt the need to started writing again as I attempted the second time around to have a dear diary. 

 This time around I had evolved a bit and that particular sister was too caught up in her own little world to even be bothered with mines. With that in mind, I decided instead of having the obvious dear diary book, I started using scrap books and tearing out the pages just encase she started nosing around again. That lasted for a while, as I folded them and blended it among past school copy books though I still had to make sure that my nosey sister wasn’t nosing around. 

Eventually I became fed up of way I had to do things and the attics I had to go through. Finding ways to write in various codes were mind blowing and tedious. Gradually my writing became less and less, then my writing only were about bad days where I would write about the event/s and how I felt. Then it became about things my mother and I would argue about, but I mostly noted the negative things that she said and noted the date. This new trend of mines came about due to the famous statements, “I never said that,” yes that famous statement. Of course being the lovely daughter that I am, I would give her a gentle reminder as to which context it was said in and what the disagreement was about. Obviously I did not give her the exact whole scenario but bit and pieces of it to jog her memory. It would have been chaos if she only knew that I still kept a version of a dear diary. 

Funny enough I did enjoy the writing, and expressing one thought’s. Probably if they did allow me too, I would have been better off in expressing myself in my writing rather that suppressing it. 

Who know I probably could have written my first novel by now.

That’s the end of that, what’s your story?