When I think of a blog, I really just think of that little blue book with a small lock that I never really committed my time to as I always said that I would. It has more pages left empty than full and some pages have not more than 3 words gracing the page. It's sad that I never felt inclined to write things down because I had a rambling of ideas and events that shaped who I am today. A few entries of uninspired updates never exposed the mind that was constantly on fast forward and now 20+ years later, I wish I could recall the details.
I feel bad about that empty little book in the basement and feel the need to apologize.
Dear Diary,
I'm so sorry that I neglected you and now so many years later, your pages sit empty and lonely. I never understood the concept of writing things down to hide them under a mattress and even still, it makes no sense to me. I doubt that even now, I would be able to commit to a daily relationship of sharing my thoughts, only to put them under lock and key. I really don't have anything so scandalous that it would be worth hiding a key. If I had to do it over again, I would write my ideas, my poem, my doodles and sketches would belong to you. I would be more kind. I hope that you forgive me and now I wonder what will become of you. Shall you sit in the basement for many more years or will something better be waiting in your future? I have a plan for your empty pages and hope that you will, one day, feel loved.
Xinamarie
P.S. My mindless wanderings will no long be confined behind a little lock but held accountable by this more modern version.
