Do you want to meet me? Do you want to see my day-to-day thoughts, the fluctuations of my emotions? Do you want to penetrate my mind?
Initially keeping a diary felt like something I would not enjoy and perhaps I was fearful of the revelations that it potentially held for me. Thoughts are fluid like water; they move, they evaporate or become solid. Storing them in a diary means keeping the water at 20 degrees.
Now I cherish my diary like treasure, something I always want to have close by, an archive of my temporal existence. Here are few pages from it.