Wednesday, 29 April 2015

Dear Diary

When I think of a future I can’t see very far, perhaps not even into tomorrow. I find myself leading this dichotomous life. One which is trying to perceive a future with moments the old me would have loved. The other, perhaps stronger, part wishes for a quick and easy death. I’m not sure which I’m afraid of more. The living or the dying. It was suggested that starting a diary might be helpful.

I’ve tried to start a diary many times. My first was when I was 13 years old, it was a Forever Friends diary. I started each entry with “Dear Tori,” for no apparent reason, perhaps it stemmed from my social awkwardness. I don’t think I was friendless but I certainly wasn’t drowning either. If my biographer is reading, I can send it to you so you can accurately document my youth, however if I remember correctly it mainly detailed my class schedule, so if you want to know whether French was before Geography, it will be perfect. Emotional insights were largely lacking! (I can’t actually send it to you, I’m pretty sure it perished in the house fire)

Obviously, I can’t just write in a normal diary, I need to find a beautiful one. So say hello to my rather tenuous link to National Stationery Week . I’ve tried to write in a one line a day diary, with enough space to write in for 5 years but it seems a bit too much. I’m not even sure I have enough words for every day.

A couple of years ago I purchased a deliciously beautiful leather diary with gold edging. I had it blind embossed with a rather twee saying.. Oh it’s so pretty. I do rather love Noble Macmillan’s leatherness it feels so right in my hands. Oh to have volumes and volumes of their albums on m bookcase. The words started to flow last year yet it felt still as if I were that angsty 13 year old all over again. Whilst my calligraphy is hideous, in certain pens I do enjoy my handwriting. 

I need to decide whether I am actually helping or hindering myself by attempting to make sense of my situation. Does it just intensify my emotions rather than weaken them? Is there a simple value in writing the words in the moment and allowing them to be discarded on the page, never to be read again.

Oh I know I overanalyse, but what else is there to do when confined to a hospital? Are you an avid diarist? Would it help to read the words of a great diarist to know whether it is a helpful outlet. To be clear I’m obviously not thinking my diary will contain the words of my generation. (My generation has been and gone, we only have youth to save us). What inspires you to make a active choice in documenting your life?

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