A fragment of an image of a self. That’s, when I started writing.
I used to see the world in colorful arrays. The bounty of nature weaved through my mind, the inanimate things that amused me, the emotions that composed me, the people to whom I was involved with, the good and evil in perpetual battle- all these constitute my world and I scribbled them down in the cheap pages of my Aspen notebook. I wrote and wrote and saw myself. Horrible, horrible!
Long have I abandoned diary writing since I joined the “uniform service.” Because things get so tough, you have to forego some of the dearest things for the greater good of one’s self- especially when it comes to choosing your priorities in life; you can’t just stick around, lingering to your obsession while relegating aside some of the vital needs for living like job and marriage – at least for some time.
But of course, you become nostalgic once in a while (especially when things that are meant to be addressed are already in place like marriage and financial matters). The feeling of reviving the old passion comes back to you as an apparition in moments of solitude or boredom. It’s like a lake covered with ice during the winter which gradually thaws at the advent of spring, unfolding before your very eyes its natural beauty. You’d realize that you ought to be pensive in giving up things. Some things are practically shallow that it takes no qualms to abandon them. But aha! diary writing is different.
What’s with it? You may wonder. Well, for me, it is something special that I should keep no matter what - not because it gives me an edge for honing my writing skills but of the psychological consolation I find in every written word, reflecting what was in my mind. In short, it makes me feel good by knowing myself better each day (or loathing myself). For diary writing is basically a mirror that unveils the image of one’s very self, connoting a spiritual value to balance check our lives.
It must be kept alive. I shall start in this page.