Dear Diary

September 6, 2010
By Anonymous

Dear Diary,

What an ordinary way to start this off. This Diary. My Diary. You might think this is an ordinary thing, to have a diary. Or to start it because most never finish it. But I do not believe in any way that its ordinary. I believe it’s the opposite. Its special. A diary is a person’s mind, it’s their soul. A book they can call their own. And the sentences they write are the very thoughts passing through their head. Their secrets hidden between the words. Their passions and feelings scribbled down on paper with much impatients, wanting to get it out. But the words are what are significant and the way they use them. It shows their personality, who they are and how they view the world.

One day we will die and our memories and remembrances will fade along with our bodies decaying below the surface. We will seize to exist and long be forgotten- except for our words, they will live on and we will only exist through the very words we write. One day I’ll be writing this down and the next I won’t. But words, they are a gift, a given power. We use them like tissues and take them for granted. Imagine a world with no words, no languages, no alphabets, no direction- just going forward into nothing. No way of showing that we were once there, that we had lived. Empty is the one word I can use to describe that world.

So this is why I write, so I can be remembered.

“I don’t want to be famous, that’s not what I’m saying. Being famous is one thing, being remembered is another.”

-A friend-
Yesterday or last night, I saw something; experienced something I will never forget. We were at a restaurant that had a band playing Beatles music. It was such a family environment and my friend and I were enjoying some laughs. A song came on that I recognized and really liked, “Ticket to Ride”, so I glanced up at the band and a boy with Down Syndrome was dancing. He was dancing by himself in front of the band, in front of everyone. He was just the funniest little dancer and honestly looked silly. So I laughed but not because of his dancing, but because of his smile. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kid that happy. I could see the sun shining out through his eyes and it reminded me of the excitement you see on a 5 year old on Christmas morning.

But soon he was no longer the only one dancing. Couples, kids, and families joined him. His smile and happiness was contagious. I wanted to join too. But I didn’t, I stayed where I was and watched with admiration and envy.

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