Dear Humans,

My name is Diary. I’m one year old. I’m owned by a sweet teenage girl. She has written her name in my first page in a beautiful calligraphy but I can’t possibly tell you her name because whatever she writes in me is not to be disclosed. I’m a good secret keeper!

But I do have to tell you about this girl, she’s the most that anybody would envy. She’s got a big heart and she’s a fantasy! Yet sometimes she’s grumpy and scribbles in me with a rage that can burn down the whole city. But that’s reasonable I’d say. Otherwise, she’s a bag of goodness.

She’d write in me every day, sometimes she’d write more than once a day when she’s got no one to talk to or share things with. I completely understand her.  She writes about everything that she goes through and all her thoughts and dreams and fears and fantasies and everything! She’s got these magical eyes that would see florescence everywhere. She admires every puny thing on earth. You know something, she keeps tiny flowers in between my papers (ugh, but it helps me stay fresh though). She overemphasizes everything. One day she wrote about the sunrise that she witnessed when she was staying in a boat. She wrote that the sun distended in hues of orange and red over the blue quilt, but she wasn’t pleased. I tell you, she isn’t a girl who’d settle for enough. She wants more. She said that she wanted to look at the sun, not just its rays. She wanted to look at the sun like it was a person. She actually wanted to learn about sun from the sun itself. Now, isn’t that something!

Not only nature flabbergasts her- she likes windmills. What she likes is the fact that its white and tall (she doesn’t like skyscrapers though). I remember her writing in me once that the sight of windmills wells up her eyes with glee. She wishes to have long arms so that she could hug a windmill. She says how beautiful it must be to watch the blades sweep the wind. Wait, didn’t I tell you earlier that she wants more? Yes, she wants to see how beautifully the blades sweep the wind. She reckons that it must be soft and slow like a lullaby.

These are some of the mundane things that she admires and there are more.

One of the other things she loves to do is: eat. She writes about the yummiest foods that she has tasted and other regular food that she loves. One of them is dosa. And there’s a whole page where she’s written about Maggi. I ponder what in the world that is, to deserve a reward of one whole page! She’s told me that she would eat Maggi in whatever time at whatever place and situation. She’s told me about other peculiar gourmets- pasta, biryani, tacos, sizzlers, more and more. She even told me that she’d become grumpy and throw tantrums if she doesn’t get food on time or if she doesn’t get her favourite food. I wonder if ‘food’ is that meritorious (unfortunately as I’m a bunch of papers I haven’t really got the chance to meet food). The only thing that makes me yearn to be a human is, food. How must it be to have a mouth and tongue and taste deliciousness. Yum yum…!

This girl can be funny too. Oh my goodness, there was this one time that I thought she was the funniest! Someday at some family party, she happened to take a shot of booze. That was her first time and she hopes that it’s her last. She thought it tasted okay and she felt okay at that time. But afterwards… she cried and cried and cried taking pity on her liver! She was like, ‘oh my poor tiny liver, I’m so sorry, the drink must have stung you, I didn’t think about you before the drink, I’m so sorry I’ll never again take even a sip’. Gosh, how heedful of her. But to me it’s a bit funny. Not that I give green light to alcohol. But.

Other than that, she loves her family. Her family is the most important thing to her. I’m sure it must be to everyone. But her little brother is quite annoying. There was this one day that he sneaked up inside her room and read some of me. I really wish I could have done something to not let him. And after, he took it as leverage and got chocolates from her. But she loves him unconditionally.

She even writes about her fears and nightmares. Considering her nightmares, she’s got some wild and wacky imagination. Getting sucked in by quick sand, drenched and dissolved in rain, losing eyesight (eyesight is the thing that she’s most grateful to God for), getting choked by bread slices, chased by chimpanzee, getting stuck in between an alligator’s mouth and all probable barmy things in the world. But seriously, getting stuck in between an alligator’s mouth? Sure, she’s got some wild imagination.

All this portrays her compassion and liveliness but she’s got a sensitive side too. There are times when she rants and vents out her sadness. Her sadness of being betrayed, hurt and teased. It hurts for me to see her tears on me. I wish there was somebody for her to share her pain rather than writing in some paper about it.

But to me, her biggest sadness is when some fictional character dies in a book or when she’s finished reading a book. She writes to me each day of her reading, where she turns into a different person each time. She becomes the protagonist herself and experiences each and every moment in her head. Sometimes she desperately wants to change the course of the story to save someone and sometimes she wants to destroy someone. There’s nothing more than relishing a book to her. She even reads her favorite books again and again. My last few pages are filled with her favorite quotes from books. As soon as she finishes a book, she’ll see if there is an adapted movie and watch it immediately. And the next thing, she complains how the movie is stupid and unreal and bad and not-so-like-the-book.

I think all this silliness, fear, imagination and desires make a human. These are the actual human things.

I’m so thankful to have gotten a wonderful human being write in me. Listening to her things, I crave to breathe. But she totally keeps me enthralled and content though I’m not enduring a livelihood.

If I ever happen to find Aladdin’s Lamp, my three wishes to Genie would be: one, to make me equipped with infinite number of pages (so that she doesn’t have to buy a new journal every year and also, I’d like to be her constant friend). My second wish would be to tear of my paper and wipe her tears when she’s crying. And my third wish would be… actually I haven’t decided it yet. Maybe I’d ask Genie to fix me a mouth and tongue so that I can indulge in some gourmet. Maybe not, but maybe. Hmm, I haven’t really given a thought about it. I’ll definitely come up with something constructive!

Till then,

Diary