Sunday, February 19th of 2012
Dearest You,
“I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support.” -Anne Frank
Lately I have been thinking about my love and obsession with diaries. My obsession with keeping a diary dates as far back as I can remember. The earliest diary I recall was one I made at about age 3 or 4. That first diary was a collection of poorly-cut fourths of lined paper which I had stolen from my sister’s kindergarten set and bound together with three staples and blue electric tape. With my limited spelling ability, I filled each page of that first diary with a secret— beginning with wanting to know “what I feel [sic] like in that [baby] picture becos [sic] today I feel good and alive.” I have kept written ledgers of my life, thoughts, and ideas ever since.
In so many ways, I find it important to write. I think it is imperative to record your own history. I think it is necessary to unapologetically to tell your own story. I think it is wise to refute what could later be miswritten about you. I think it’s important to let out everything you may be afraid to say out loud. Most of all, I think it’s vital to leave an imprint, however big or small, of what your mind came to terms with on a particular moment.
Today I am working a few projects. I have high hopes and expectations for this week. I am as scared about the future and I am excited to experience it. Today I feel good and so alive.
Very truly yours,
