Dear dia…
Hahaha. Do people really start off like that? Seems a little weird. It’s fascinating how an inanimate object can be so full of life. The deepest desires of heart, the darkest secrets, the goriest thoughts, the coldest confessions, all inked on blank bland pages. But somehow, that’s what makes this otherwise unimportant object the most valuable.
It is an allegory to life itself. We are, at best, vessels. Empty. Noisy, without purpose. But as life happens, these vessels become a treasure chest to all the good and all the bad. The vessel starts to fill up. Becoming less noisy. It gets a purpose. the proceedings of life that happened all those years ago stand erect right in front of your eyes. Living and breathing.
And when that vessel finds another inanimate object, all it wants to do is empty up those heavy burdens. Free itself of the sadness. Just so that it can start filling again. And maybe in the process, start feeling again. A life, making a life living a life, and that life living through a thousand of them, just to live another.
