got a diary. Actually it’s more like I had a notebook for many years, used it for piano even though it was too good for piano. Then quit piano. Then it lay in my car for quiet some time. Today, I got it ripped out the used pages and started a diary.
A diary I hope to keep going and not ever give up on until it’s full. Heck, I’ve already used up four pages. But I was merely introducing myself. Not everyday will be exciting. Though, as simple as a little girl hugging me or the most delicious biscuit I’ve ever had, I could write that. A wave, a smile. A swear, a sorrow. Diaries are made to take abuse. Well. No. But they are made to be flooded with laugher or cries. They’re just your friend. And they’re just for you. J Nice thought, isn’t it? Well, provided you’ve got a good hiding place for it if it doesn’t have a lock. Which mine doesn’t... I have yet to find a good place for it. Anyway, I shan’t be telling you what goes into it. It’s for me. It’s for me now, and me then. Maybe a select few pages to friends and family in the future. But, not for now.
(My beautiful notebook^)