Poetry

Dear Diary

I needed to put something down on paper, something to remind me that I am alive.

See, I haven’t been thinking about it lately. More like refusing to let my mind go there, yet I still feel like its in the driver seat, this thing…

Sometimes I wish they would just listen, most of the time I wish they could understand.

They often ask me what’s wrong or what’s driving all of this. I never have an answer, I could never let them know. Knowledge is what they seek, whilst the truth stares them straight in the eyes as they call it pettiness and laziness.

Dear Diary, so far you have been the only thing i can open up to, with no judgement and no prejudice.

Dear diary, I wish you could be real…

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