The Diary

 “A diary is a long winded letter you write to an old person who used to be you.” 


This I saw on a blog I am now following. And I couldn't agree more. I used to maintain a diary. It always saddened me every time I failed to write once a day. As I think back now, it might just be a notebook full of crap; one filled of all my whatnots, my blabbers when I was emotionally overtly immature. Yes, I was a child. A child with dreams that were undeniably over the top. A child with aspirations of the undeniably unrealistic world. I was a child. A child who believed in dreams. A child. A child who had hopes of finding my path, my dream. And today, I continue to be a child. 


Yes, my diary was a letter I tried to write to myself, my old self. But this old self, became my threshold of the self I am today. Yes, I have matured but no, I am not fully mature. 


Today, I'd like to write in my diary. Because today, I'd like to share something to her. 


Dearest Diary,


I learned two days ago that today was the day I knew I secretly was dreading. You see, I have to say goodbye to someone today. No, I can't say it personally because he doesn't know I feel this way. It has been years. Oh yes, years, that I kept these feelings with me. It started out as some teenage girl crush and eventually became a deep, true feeling. I don't know if it is love. Perhaps it is just admiration. But for sure, it was way above the rest, the feeling I mean. I always get butterflies with him around. I always catch myself smiling when I think of him. How crazy can that be?


I regret many things today. I regret not being able to talk to him more. I regret not having been able to bond with him. I regret being too shy towards him. I regret feeling like this. But mostly, I regret of having to say goodbye without having the courage to say how he meant to me. Yes, he meant a lot. Even the person who now holds this pedestal I secretly saved for him knows this. That he, not him, owned this. Yes, he did. And I guess, he will always have a spot. 


I am forlorn. I have nothing to say but, goodbye and I'll see you. And my gosh, am I going to miss you. Yes, I will. Much like those times I knew you were within my reach but never within my sight. I will always have this little pang of loneliness knowing, you will be both now; not within my reach and not within my sight. I will miss you. And he will probably hate me for this feeling but I am just being honest with myself. I will miss you. I will miss the silence that defined you. This silence will now define me. I miss you already. I miss you. Will he hate me for saying this? He might. But I hope he knows that he is different. And I just need to let this out. 


I love you. I loved you. I will miss you. I miss you. 


Goodbye.


Always,


Me :)