Hey, I’m back!
It’s been a crazy week with family and lots of walking and running around. I have barely touch a book, but it was a good way to find some long lost strength, even if I was drained of energy. The days I spent with family I had the chance to go snooping around my old bedroom and I was surprised by my findings.
It’s amazing how easy we can remember and forget things and this past weekend I realized how many things I have forgotten. Like how I started writing.
So there I am cleaning my old bedroom when my eye catches the sight of a small pink notebook at the back of a drawer. It will be a lie if I say that I didn’t frown. I did, but when I held it in my hands I remembered what it was. A diary!
I remember having this diary, but the memory is fuzzy like looking through a dirty window. I don’t know who gave it to me, but it was full of my ramblings and stories. I sat on the bed and started reading it. It was since elementary school and I laughed so hard while reading it.
Even if I didn’t remember this before, now I know this was the first thing I wrote for me. That little pink diary is where I realized how much I love pressing the pencil against the pale pink pages. Some images of me writing appeared in my mind like mushrooms after a rainy day. And I smiled wide. Then I remembered the old writing book of stories and I opened the brown hardcover and read some more. Oh, my favorite one is “The worthless turtle,” the first story I wrote with no good ending. Then I was charmed by this idea.
Sitting there I thought back of all the notebooks and diaries I used to have. Writing my thoughts, stories and open myself there, always at a blank page. My best friend, my constant companion and my passion. A blank page can be transformed into something beautiful. It just needs to come pure out of our hearts. The other stuff are teachable.
At least this is how I see it. How about you?
How did you start writing? Do you have a diary?