dear diary?

i still haven’t figured out whether nostalgia is a good feeling or a bitter one because even if i reminisce  about the happiest times i have had in the past, i always end up feeling dejected and blue. that’s one reason i hate writing a diary or a journal. i wouldn’t want to recall what happened in my day because i’ve already lived the moments and i cant live them again. even whilst reading a diary from long ago, what i feel is far from content. i’m not the person who wrote the diary any more and i wont be the same person tomorrow either.

but then there are moments so exquisite, so life changing that you want to keep them with you forever. these moments pass ever so quickly, like sand slipping out of your hand and the strange part is that you rarely know then that these moments would mean so much to you in future. these are the moments that become experiences, the stories you love to tell over and over again with people listening to you in awe. you know in your heart that you were truly alive that day, that minute, that second.

there is this desperate urge to record that experience, to share it, to mark your victorious moment of exuberance in a life that constantly tries to put you down. hold on to it, don’t forget that moment. write it down, sing it, talk about it to your friend even if he seems bored or to your dog if he cares to listen. why? because little grains of happiness like these make up your life, not those pitiful miserable days. find hope in these instances (as cheesy as it sounds) when you’re down. know and trust that good times like these, hell! better times are yet to come. carry these moments to your death bed and smile remembering them. you lived my friend, you had a life.

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