Wrong! My diary is an important tool in life. Keeping me sane.

Ever since a moment, in 2005, when my mum and dad were arguing downstairs and a break up was imminent and I had so many emotions and thoughts running through my mind, I have a kept a diary. Of sorts at least. That day was pivotal with how I went about my future daily life. Mind you, I may have discovered the tool further down the line, perhaps when a relative died or something when I couldn’t quite form the words out of my mouth to talk to someone about what and how I felt.

Talking, speaking and conversing hasn’t really ever been my strong point, but neither has English or writing beautiful structured sentences or stories. What I have been good at though is spilling through my fingers. Being able to type what I felt the moment I felt it, but with a backspace available. This has been a supportive tool in my life.

I began, that day, on OneNote. I didn’t introduce myself, I didn’t write to someone like Dear Diary, I just typed how I felt and what I wanted or didn’t want. My family was and still is extremely important to me. Knowing they were arguing with full force broke me in to pieces. My dad is brave and strong, always offering a cuddle if I feel down, the figure who is constant in my life. I saw him cry that day, sitting on the stairs, it was like someone crushed my insides. I didn’t want to burden him with my emotions as he was already heartbroken, and seeing him like that made me feel 10 x worse about the situation. Diary steps in again.

Things improved, mum moved out for a few months got her own car and a flat. Dad still pined for her and things weren’t the same. But after a while she missed us and came home - they have been happy ever since. But the diary was still there, lifting my burden of emotions.

Throughout my teenagehood the diary supported me. Through loneliness, love, anger, frustration, pining. I progressed from OneNote to blogspot, as my hard drive packed in and I lost so many entries and memories. The internet was more reliable. I made entries only on days when I thought about it. It wasn’t a chore, it was there to relieve me, and to reflect on how I really felt.

And today, I still have a diary. I have this, my tumblr as a visual diary. There to keep notes and pictures of things I have done or ideas I like or people that inspire me. But I also have my blogspot, there for more personal and extreme feelings - I haven’t posted in a very long time.

I guess that shows I am happy.