Dear Diary...

A diary...journaling...keeping a log of one's life...all can essentially get boiled down to the same purpose.  With the act of keeping the events of one's life on paper, certainly the author should have some loose idea concerning or goal toward which the narrative is directed.  As I journal, most of the time the few scant lines are simply a chronology of the day's events.  Then I'll hearken back to the real reason behind why I started a journal all those years ago.  At such point, I'll begin to weave my heart and soul, the emotional coloring, in to the events unfolding on the page, as if happening for the first time.  What do I find, as a result?  Not mere lifeless words on a page, but a real, living and breathing, human being who rejoices for victories won, is hurt by carelessly flung, however unintentional, arrows which pierce my soul, and the secrets of my heart which no one else knows.  May the content I keep become enough evidence in a court of law, if it should ever come to this, indicting me of engaging life as an active member of society.  That's how I should invest the time writing the very words which make up my life story.  Life is a contact sport, not one to simply sit on the sidelines watching as the very essence and flower of our personhood pass us by in disuse.  What's in your diary?  Begin by writing, "Dear Diary,..."

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