a letter to my journal

My Dearest Diary,

I’ve written so many letters for the people I love, the people I would love to meet, the people who don’t even know me on you and I’ve come to realize I haven’t written one for you. Though I believe there are times when I express my gratitude for your existence, a letter is still different so I hope you regard this as that. A letter that isn’t waiting for a reply. Anyway, I’m blabbering here. It’s as if I don’t know what to say to you at all even if you probably know every word I have written or uttered to myself, alone in a room. You’ve known me for more than a year or so and you’ve let me express everything I couldn’t in my poetry, in my stories, in my art and in the conversations I have with others and with myself. I would like you to know that I’m often too careful of what I say to myself but with you here, I am free. I know you’ve witnessed me writing some of the harshest things I have said to no one but me and I’m sorry. I’m sorry if you felt that anger, that self-hatred, but thank you for letting me see who I am when I feel I’m not me. Those are the parts that I hide so well from the world and from myself. Those are the parts of me that I don’t understand, that I don’t fully accept. Those are the parts of me I deem as foreign, alien even. But they’re part of me. They’re who I am. And you let me write them, you let me express them, all these voices I have cupped my ears for. And I’ve realized, I have so much more to learn about myself, the fears I have, the insecurities, the unused energy reverberating inside of me. Positive values and negative traits, they’re all me. Parts of me. I am fragmented. But with you here, I feel whole. You contain all of who I am. Maybe not all, definitely not all, but you posses the parts of me even I can’t face. And you’re doing so unapologetically. So… thank you. With all my being, I thank you.




tiny note #4

When you feel as if your feet have been swallowed by quicksand
Unable to walk, let alone run or fly,
Look up and watch the clouds swim in an ocean that is the sky.
Watch as they move, slowly, slowly.
Inching their way to another place.
So move.
Slowly, slowly.
Even if your steps are as small as peas and crickets and other little things.
Go on and

tiny note #3

Imagine me whispering in your Heart of Hearts
My dear, you cannot get rid of fear
But my dear
Hold hands with it
Even if by doing so
You are left with a perpetual scar
Listen to its lies
And to its cries
Be friends with it
Strike a conversation with it
Take a walk in the park with it
And I promise
My dear
I promise
You will eventually see why it was there in the first place