Usual Diary Entry
Why didn't you just say to me, this was all for naught? I wouldn't have tried so hard, for so long.
Dear diary, you are completely worthless.
For the past fifteen years I’ve filled yr pages
I’ve hurt my hand trying to describe
Each & every joy & trauma to you.
In intricate detail.
These endless notebooks that compromise yr soul,
Yellowed paper, faded graphite, bleeding ink
A lifetime of stories, of people, of places
All of which don’t matter.
Or rather, will be forgotten.
In spite of my best efforts throughout the years,
Why didn’t you just tell me?
Why didn’t you just say to me, this was all for naught?
I wouldn’t have tried so hard, for so long.
An obsession with good stationery,
A taste for the right journals & pens.
So beautiful, yet filled with something
That’s so utterly empty, right?
For every day I mark off, for every memory
Transplanted into yr heart, into a place
That I pretended cared for any of this.
The good habits I tried to form with you,
Every emotional mood I tried to make sense of.
Dear diary, I’m hopelessly in love with you,
no matter how futile, no matter how worthless I am
I can’t help but feel that sickening sweetness
Confiding every dark secret to you,
Whispering the horrors from the darkness in my mind.
Nothing good will come from this,
But I don’t think I really mind.
I’ll still write to you every day.
Until my hand breaks, or my mind,
Whichever comes first.
