I had a diary once. The only problem was, I never used it. There was no one, or no thing, to contain my thoughts. My fears, my wants, my needs, my hopes, and my dreams, were all sealed within my own soul, my heart, and my head. Eventually, because I could not take advantage of the diary I had in front of me, everything that was kept within began to become too much. The tomb that I had created within myself was actually starting to burst at the seams. A slightest crack in the foundation that I had manifested had begun to creep into further areas and rupture the membrane that supported the tombs structure. Slowly, and then all at once, every thing that was once kept inside was now in the open. It was now sitting in front of the world for them to see and begin to critically judge. The reasons for my actions and for who i was had finally come to light but yet no one could see past the initial fabricated facade. The damage had been done and I was only left with a single decision. Did I allow everything to remain sprawled out before me or did I pick up the pieces and cram them back into a half ass fixed tomb that was bound to break again some day?
I had a diary once. It was neglected and left with empty pages. It begged to be filled and I ignored it. I ignored the outlet that was bestowed before me; because of that I have broken the only part that used to be whole within. To allow the contents to remain in front of me, my hope is to finally compile them within the given pages. To put them forth where they may be seen, instead of stored in the darkness. I reached for my saving grace to no longer find it there. My broken tomb has broken my outlet and thrown my chances away. My negligence has cost me all of the options I once had. Broken inside and alone on the out.
I had a diary once. Now its nowhere to be found.