I am being destroyed by my own mind.
It was the last sentence I had written after I finished my very first diary entry. I never really thought that I would be needing a diary. It just never occurred to me to write down my thoughts and feelings. You see, I always kept them to myself, so when my grandmother gave me this small book with blank, lined pages, I didn’t know what to do with it until she told me. She said that it was a book that spoke for your heart. It kept every single feeling you ever felt and if you kept good care of it, then those memories and emotions would be conserved until you would open it up again and read it all.
I thought, why would you want to remember bad memories? Little does my grandma now that none of my emotions and memories are all butterflies and rainbows. In fact, it’s just the opposite, but I decided to give it a try. Surprisingly, it wasn’t all that bad.