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March 17, 2012
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Dear Human,

You continue to write in me. You take a pen and mark my pages with memories. Why do you do this? I cannot help you; I cannot accompany you through your life. You will write in me and then what you write will stay hidden beneath my cover. These words do not solve any of your troubles, or make any of your joys greater. Why do you continue to write? I do not care what happened to you on March 16th, be that March 16th in 2002 or March 16th in 2012. I do not care.

I do not care what happens from day to day, the world outside which I have not seen in years. I am shut in a drawer in a desk that never changes. I do not know the people whose names you scrawl, sometimes with hate, which fills me, sharp words, sharp tip of the pen, stabbing, carving deep symbols, these words that indent other pages, stretching deeper, impaling me with your passions. I hate these names, these people, these deeds, with such hate that I cannot think beyond the fresh ink. The next page is blank and sends me back to the hatred, so heinous that all the other pages are meaningless. All else I once stood for was a lie because you were wrong and did not love or even like before and had always, always hated. But then my soul is stripped bare again and filled with the names and tears that swell, absorbed for what they are by my paper, filling the indented shadows of hatred with pools of sorrow that fade the expired passion. And then, again, after all of this, your scars, your drowning tears that have mutilated me, they are bandaged – no, they are masked – they are masked by your words of happiness, of your love and of your forgiveness or your damned forgetfulness, a bliss to the human mind which I will never experience, barred from me by the depth of the scars you have carved into my flesh!

You teach me what the world is? No. You teach me nothing, nothing you write is real. You write of your world? Not even that much, for you do not understand your world. You do not understand your life or even your own mind. You pour your ignorance and mistakes into my mind in order to empty yours! To free yourself, to think and honor and worship your own importance, you terrorize me with your fickle flings of feeling! I am not you! I am a book, I am pages, I am something else, not what you attempt to convert my being into. How will I ever come to understand anything or even myself if you continue to fill me with lies? August 16th you saw a beautiful sunset, the most beautiful sunset you have ever witnessed. You called it magical. You called it great. But you did not describe it to me. Do you understand how much you make me hunger for the life you live outside this drawer? It is magical. Why is it magical? It is great. Why is it great? You do not need descriptions, for the date and my face, my features, your words, bring to your mind the image that amazed you. I have no image! I have nothing! You will tell me that all the world is ugly and disgusting and should disappear! What of that sunset? What of that magic and greatness? Was it really not what you said? Oh damn you, you lie! You lie! You lie! You lie and you lie again! Why should I hate this man? Why should I hate this woman? Why should I forgive them and love them or why do you never print their name again? They disappear then, they are gone, so were they ever real? What is real and what is fake?

You place dreams in my eyes. You tell me they are dreams, just as you say your aspirations are also your dreams. Will they ever come true? Will my dreams ever come true? For that is the case, that is what you do to me, you transfer your dreams to me, they become my own. I yearn for the day you fill me with their accomplishment! Everything you write will become etched in my pages, scratches building on one another, blending until they become illegible. Your words on a page, the true account of the day, to be shut and turned over for the next day that becomes more important, that may forget the yesterday and all the others or reflect only to recount them as stupid entries of an immature person who no longer exists. So my contents are only stupidity put into words? They mean nothing and you do not care? You do not care about them or even what you write now, is that right? You scribble and you blot out, you misspell words or make up your own language because you are lazy, as you say, or you don't care, as you say.

Once the day comes when I am so full of your hatred, your tears, your joys and dreams and accomplishments that mean nothing, with your laziness and immaturity and stupidity that reduce me to nothing and create no understanding as lies tear and cripple me! -Fatigued, that is what I am! I am worn with years, my body wilts as my binding splits, slowly with the fibers giving up. My body cannot contain your furies and dreams; it cannot contain any more of your life. No more! Give me no more of your changing thoughts! Do not dedicate me to an idea, fill me with faith, only to tear me down when you abandon, refute, and belittle all I had stood for. Why do you do this to me? Why do you do this to yourself? The you of April 2005 once held what you now ridicule with the highest acclaim. You tear down your own identity; you tangle me in changing personalities. You drown me and bash me, throw me and stab me, but why? I ask. But tell me why you do this to me? Why have you destroyed me and used me, filling up all that I am with all that you are now not? How can you change so much, human? How? How can you change while I will always be what you have recorded? Always and forever.

Why do you continue to write in me, from day to day? Your writing shrinks, it can no longer be read, a mere line on my back and front cover, no longer abiding by your rules of organization. Abandoned, forgotten, or no longer possible…

Why now do you stop to write? I am empty, you can continue. Write over the other pages, you can do this, yes? …Yes, so why not?

For they are only lies.

My pages are blank.

Fill them again.

Write once more.



I do not know what day it is, what month, what year. I do not know what has happened, where you are, what names you know, what beliefs you carry, what feelings you have. I cannot feel. I cannot know. I am now lost, I do not know where. I do not know you anymore. I am filled with questions; your old emotions are knotted. They need to be straightened; they need to be set right; I need a new purpose.

For you give me none.

What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?

What…am I now?

Am I still Dear Diary?

Dear human….tell me as you take me out of the drawer. Tell me as you take me from the room. Tell me, tell yourself what you and I are. Tell us that we have a mind and a soul that feels. Tell us that we are dear. Worship thought and life and the day again. Let us continue. We are not done. We can hold more scars, more tears, more hearts and ink.

Do not burn us.

I am you.

I am-
I think this is one of my favorite things I written in a while.
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:iconreapercaster:
Reapercaster Featured By Owner Feb 8, 2014
This is just...wow. I'm sorry, I really wish I could come up with something a little more eloquent to say. I don't think I've ever read anything from this perspective before. Your writing is very inspiring.
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:icondeath-in-the-orchard:
death-in-the-orchard Featured By Owner Feb 24, 2014  Student Writer
Thank you - to know that you found it inspiring is the most I could ask for. 

-Sorry for the late reply.
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:iconreapercaster:
Reapercaster Featured By Owner Feb 24, 2014
You're very welcome. And don't worry about it, I bet you get tons of comments :)
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:icondeath-in-the-orchard:
death-in-the-orchard Featured By Owner Mar 22, 2014  Student Writer
Not very often. ^^;

-and this reply was even later than the last. 
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:iconwhisperingwatermelon:
WhisperingWatermelon Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2013
This is so full of emotion. It's absolutely wonderful. It's stunning. :)
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:icondeath-in-the-orchard:
death-in-the-orchard Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you. ^^
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:iconnecromancersteve:
NecromancerSteve Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2012
That was fantastic, I am finding it difficult to put single concepts or words the the explosion of emotion that was that peice. In short I feel awestruck and ask, why wouldn't the diary have told us before?
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:icondeath-in-the-orchard:
death-in-the-orchard Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2012  Student Writer
I'm sorry it was so long, I didn't realize it until I looked back at the page and saw it stretched out in the comments.
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:icondeath-in-the-orchard:
death-in-the-orchard Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2012  Student Writer
Thank you.

(if your question was not meant to be rhetorical) -
the knowledge (anything the diary wished to communicate by the end of the piece) did not occur to the diary before because the situation had been different and so the diary's attitude (at the time) could not support the knowledge it later gained when the diarist's habits changed. If it had been told at the beginning that it was the human ("I am you."), that it would have always remained thoughtless, faithless, and opinion-less(empty nothingness) if the human being had never written/inserted these things into it -- the diary would not have accepted that knowledge because it would feel that it was not true. Only when the human was lost did the knowledge come.

{sorry, I'm wordy and unclear with my answers - I'm having a hard time putting down a solid/simple explanation] so: (not everything, but part of the diary's tale)

First the diary resented the human because it believed that the human was dumping all of his/her emotions and pains into it and that the human was able to exaggerate the emotions and pain (and return with confusing contradictions) so that the diary was suffering more than the human being, while only the human could go into the world to find truth/ease the suffering whereas the diary was trapped. Until the human wrote something different, the diary remained in a state of perpetual anguish, hate, love, (whatever emotion had been in the last entry, and as time passed it would go into older entries to seek answers/relief, which would only worsen its condition).

Then when the human was gone, the diary realized that it was now suspended in time and had no real existence - and it was cluttered with all of the emotions and contradictions that were too messy for the diary to interpret in order to understand its own existence, opinions, purpose, etc. It's existence was the human's existence, and without the human it was left in a confused (and tormented) state, as a puzzle with no answer, or as a story that had been cut before the climax with numerous loose ends trailing from where the plot had frozen.

The human was also losing part of himself/herself by burning/denying the contents of the diary - wishing to erase his/her self - because the diary was a log of the person's development, all the different details (and whatnot) that described who the human really was, the past still clearly attached to the present (or what had been the present human before the human had stopped using the diary).

-hahhh....I know I am making no sense, and I'm sorry.

But none of this could be realized before the end. And the human being never did come to realize it/care before he/she burned the diary. The end...

I'm sorry for the tangled explanation... I tried to answer it. I might be able, at some point, to give a more concise (or understandable) answer, instead of this jumbled mess.

I still hope it was a bit helpful, and if it was a rhetorical question, then just ignore my confused ramblings. ^^;
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:iconnecromancersteve:
NecromancerSteve Featured By Owner Sep 3, 2012
That was far more than what I asked for, though I ramble myself so you are in good company miss...

And wow, I might need a minute to digest that but I appreciate the explanation
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