I remember when I used to maintain a journal. I was 11 at the time, I think. It was a yellow notebook with teddy bears on it. *shudders*. It also had a tiny lock on it, to evade prying eyes. Especially my brother's.
Soon I realized it was the stupidest thing that I had ever done. He broke the lock as easily as a tea-soaked biscuit and read a few pages in it. Oh, the shame.
My brother and I learnt two valuable life lessons that day: Me-"Don't ever keep a journal." My brother- "Hell hath no fury like a big sister whose journal you've just read."
Out of embarrassment, I tore out all the pages in the journal, soaked them in water and threw away all my memories of, well, whatever the 11 year old me had chronicled in those pages. All the memories of fights in class, celebrity crushes, plain old crushes- EVERYTHING, went down the drain.
I didn't feel bad, though. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my back. Or perhaps like a murderer who's destroyed every shred of evidence of his crime.
In short, I felt free.
Go ahead. Ask me what the point of the whole anecdote was.
I don't exactly know either. It's just that when I restarted this blog with all the old posts gone, I felt the very same way I did when I destroyed my journal.
Free as a recently uncaged bird with the entire zoo to explore. Or something like that.
(P.S: First post done. I'm famished!)
Soon I realized it was the stupidest thing that I had ever done. He broke the lock as easily as a tea-soaked biscuit and read a few pages in it. Oh, the shame.
My brother and I learnt two valuable life lessons that day: Me-"Don't ever keep a journal." My brother- "Hell hath no fury like a big sister whose journal you've just read."
Out of embarrassment, I tore out all the pages in the journal, soaked them in water and threw away all my memories of, well, whatever the 11 year old me had chronicled in those pages. All the memories of fights in class, celebrity crushes, plain old crushes- EVERYTHING, went down the drain.
I didn't feel bad, though. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my back. Or perhaps like a murderer who's destroyed every shred of evidence of his crime.
In short, I felt free.
Go ahead. Ask me what the point of the whole anecdote was.
I don't exactly know either. It's just that when I restarted this blog with all the old posts gone, I felt the very same way I did when I destroyed my journal.
Free as a recently uncaged bird with the entire zoo to explore. Or something like that.
(P.S: First post done. I'm famished!)
