Today I’ve found a box in the house. It’s the box where I keep my diaries. Since 5th gray, till a year ago. Started reading them up and reminded most of my “childhood”. Most of my feelings, fears.. likes and dislikes. It’s weird meeting with the old you. As I read, it felt as if I was reading the diary of some stranger I’ve never met. I never wrote about the exact things that I did in a certain day, but wrote about emotions.
All of them are written in english. Or a semi-english.. anyhows it was a weird feeling. Yeah I’ve changed.. a little bit. Most of the ideas seem foolish and innocent. Then progressively, focused my ideas on not so innocent things, or better said.. I’ve started to realise what was going on around me. Religion, culture and inner self.. Had different opinions then the ones I have now.
I feel like I should burn them.. Those thoghts are my innermost feelings, so intimate.. And somehow.. burning them would make me get rid of the past me. It’s not like I don’t like the way I used to be.. but one must live the present.. and with them around me, I’ll always be tented to read them up again, remembering and having nostalgic moods.