The Diary

The Journal - Entry 2

Biting, my fingers started to move over the rough edges of the book inevitably. How long has it been?

Part of me wished I am dead if living meant under the shadow of that past.

I am beginning to get frightened. But somehow, a little part of me is hopeful that maybe, this book might just be meant for me. A little sacrifice until it will lead me to my healing. After all, no one can run away from his problems or fears forever. This might just be the soonest time that I need to come and face it.

It was a battle for which the heart wins over the mind. Yes, it was irrational. But the seeking heart needs to know. I began to look over inside flipping the hardcover. As always, the manor stamp sits just right there on the center, marking its claim forever, its pages started to become yellow and worn out. I wondered how many hands had run through these pages.
And who could they be?

Such a dreadful thought for I seek to keep this journal more private than ever, otherwise it would be much of a shame.
I, myself, had no right to touch it again but still I can’t deny that the sender might just have his reasons.

I wept for those reasons. I seem to know. Those were the reasons I’m burdened this much.