Sunday Scribblings prompt is Diary Writing.
I am writing this from the perspective of my Dairy.
I know, I know. I should not write to you. You are the one who writes on me. I look forward to what you write each day. I have been with you for long that at times I think I am you. Well, almost.
My leather bound cover is tattered but you love me as much as you love your own self. You get paranoid when you cannot find me. I have known you to panic and wanted to tell you not to. I can look after myself for you. I always am at the same secret place. However, you are forgetful and look for me at other familiar places.
We have been through so much together. I am privy to all your secrets, your despair, your joy, your thoughts, your feelings. Sometimes your sadness has cut me to quick and your joys have lifted me up. I have wanted to hug you through that darkest phase of your life but you with your head held so high, never let anyone erode your protective covering. I admire you for not letting go of your dignity, not giving in to it. Your ability to get going under any circumstances has made me proud of being your diary. I know I am your outlet to all your thoughts. You write so haphazardly sometimes, but it is so lucid and clear to me.
I am saddened too when you try to articulate and no words come out. You stare at me blankly, anguish writ large on your façade. Then I do not know how to reach out. I wish so much to dispel your fears, your glooms but I cannot. I am only your diary. I want to be your diary for eternity.
Your dear diary