Secrets revealed and remembered
In a futile attempt to be productive during the long weekend and save myself from being a full-fledged workaholic, I found myself singing Jordin Spark’s Tattoo and cleaning my storage box. Aside from the occasional dust mites and unused paper bags, I was surprised to see a matchbox hidden inside my old bag. Thank God, it did not ignite because of the unbearable heat last summer. But what even surprised me the most were these items:
Nine (9) old notebooks filled with long narratives that perfectly described the most important stages and happenings of my existence. From my former enemy turned into my ultimate crush in high school to the most dramatic scenes that could swept the Oscars' judges, these silent papers contained my innermost secrets and kept them for years. Looking back, I never thought I was that rebellious and that I actually planned to take that rebellion into another level, not to mention that I almost dropped out of college because of that. I cannot imagine how hard headed I was. Super bitchy, impulsive, insecure, careless etc. Whew! I'm thankful that Nanay never disowned for that. Really, your perspective changes when you grow old. What a transition, I must say. Hhahahaha.
There were entries that I can barely read for they were all smudged with ink. I can hardly decipher what I want to say during those times. Yet as I reminisced my unholy confessions, the sudden flashback of memories explained everything. Oh yes, the smudge has nothing to do with the ink, I was actually crying so hard when I wrote those uber emo prose. Ironically, I cannot stop laughing while I was reading each story. For the longest time ever and until now—I refused to believe that I wrote those things. But my handwriting would not lie. Hahahahahaha. It’s funny and at the same time, relieving how the most unfortunate phases of my life could bring me joy in the end. Somehow, it reminded me of what I had to go through and the survival tactics that I have already forgotten. Lol.
I was also confused why I do that and I realized that it has something to do with the paper’s texture or whatsoever. I mean, there is something about the paper’s feel that inspires me to write an entry. But once I get used to it, I would switch to a new one. It really feels good to write on a new diary, right? Much better than blogging, I must say. Hehehe. Or probably, this is my way of telling myself that I had to close another chapter and start all over again.
Currently listening to: Nickelback’s Photograph.
P.S: I really want to change the lyrics and the title to diary. Something like— look at these diaries, everytime I do they make me laugh. How did my eyes get so red and what the hell was on Meimei’s head? Blah. 
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