My psychiatrist ssuggested I start keeping a diary to give my emotions a positive outlet. Searching online I found a rustic looking leather one which passed the man test well enough. To write with I purchased a vintage fountain pen. Yes, I was going to do the whole diary thing stylishly. My intentions were, well, intentions.
Day One. My entry gave a brief history of why I was writing. Delving into my past. Some into my present. Various outlines of potential futures. When done I signed the page, tied the diary shut and laid it on my night stand. Thirty minutes later I walked into my bathroom. Retrieved a straight razon and removed page one. It found it’s way to the bottom of the trash with old coffee grounds covering it. Clean slate. Sharing is still an issue.
Day One, the second. Not as detailed. Very generic. More of a “this is what I did today”. Straight Razor. Trash. No evidence.
Day One, the third. Straight Razor. Trash.
Day One, the fourth. Here I am. For thoses of you few who are my friends in cyber safeness. So I will return to this my safe zone. I will rip my soul bare. Share my pains and joy. Throw out a few hugs along the way.
Thanks for walking with me.