I Lost My Diary!
ARGHHHH!!! I’ve been keeping a diary, off-and-on, for at least 10 years now, if not longer. And for the first time ever I think I’ve lost one. I’ve gotten rather careless about how I handle them, so it’s my own fault. I always buy a pocket-sized journal and just carry it around in whatever totebag/knapsack du jour I’m using. I don’t even really hide the journals anymore, one of them sat on my desk, which is in the living room, for at least a week, meaning my roommate clearly could have read it if she had wanted. (Not that it’s fuzzy and pink with a cover that says “MY SECRET THOUGHTS” or anything. It looks like it could be an addressbook.)
I know I’m not Anne Frank. I know what I write isn’t important and when I’ve read over my own words sometimes I wonder if I’m full of shallowness. But I tend to only write when I’m unhappy and so the journal is a dumping ground for things I can’t share with others (back when this blog used to also be such a dumping ground).
I've certainly thought about this kind of thing (losing my diary) happening. Sometimes I've written my e-mail address inside my journal just for that possibility. But I wonder who is going to find it and bother to give it back? Who knows if someone has even found it?
I think, more than even having some dirty secrets revealed, I’m unhappy that I lost a part of my history with it. I’m a fairly sporadic journaler, but I like having a record of my progression. (Not that I go back much and reread what I write, although it might be helpful to myself if I did.)
Anyway I guess I’m just going to have to deal with the fact someone mind have it and someone might not. I don’t know which possibility disturbs me more.
ARGHHHH!!! I’ve been keeping a diary, off-and-on, for at least 10 years now, if not longer. And for the first time ever I think I’ve lost one. I’ve gotten rather careless about how I handle them, so it’s my own fault. I always buy a pocket-sized journal and just carry it around in whatever totebag/knapsack du jour I’m using. I don’t even really hide the journals anymore, one of them sat on my desk, which is in the living room, for at least a week, meaning my roommate clearly could have read it if she had wanted. (Not that it’s fuzzy and pink with a cover that says “MY SECRET THOUGHTS” or anything. It looks like it could be an addressbook.)
I know I’m not Anne Frank. I know what I write isn’t important and when I’ve read over my own words sometimes I wonder if I’m full of shallowness. But I tend to only write when I’m unhappy and so the journal is a dumping ground for things I can’t share with others (back when this blog used to also be such a dumping ground).
I've certainly thought about this kind of thing (losing my diary) happening. Sometimes I've written my e-mail address inside my journal just for that possibility. But I wonder who is going to find it and bother to give it back? Who knows if someone has even found it?
I think, more than even having some dirty secrets revealed, I’m unhappy that I lost a part of my history with it. I’m a fairly sporadic journaler, but I like having a record of my progression. (Not that I go back much and reread what I write, although it might be helpful to myself if I did.)
Anyway I guess I’m just going to have to deal with the fact someone mind have it and someone might not. I don’t know which possibility disturbs me more.
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