Dear Me, I got you today.

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January 1, 2019.
Dear Me,
I have decided to name you this because the words that will be written here will reflect my thoughts, and my experiences. Those words are and will be of me, and written here makes you a part of me too. So, therefore, you are me and I am you.
I got you today out of a mere desire to simply have you. But I've reconstructed my desire. You'll reflect me, in words.

Having gone out to Wuraola's house to have my share of the New year's goodies that her parents always distributed to the whole world in form of parties, and having had my satisfied share, I strolled around the hosts' estate, acknowledging the pomp and airs the big, beautifully crafted houses gave. Wuraola, my dear school friend that never knew when to keep quiet and when not to was beside me, giving me unsolicited talks about the owners of the houses we were walking by.

Then we got to the building that was the estate's bookshop.
As the avid reader that I am, I dragged Wuraola in with me to check the books on sale out despite her protests.

And there you were.
You were lying comfortably well there, amidst several others on the first bookshelf by my right. You seemed to have created a space for yourself, perhaps it was the bookseller who had placed you that way, perhaps it was not. The gap between you and the other journals on the shelf reminded me of how proud creatures; humans and other living things, distance themselves from the rest, as if to say "Don't touch me". Surrounded with other bright and dull colored journals, you still caught my eye.

Decked in peach, and having flowers designed and colored blue, brown and yellow scattered all over, with the color blue standing out more than the rest, almost hiding your peachy beauty, but for the fact that peach refused to back down, but to take its stand still with its brightness. It was as though whoever designed you didn't give it a thought as to what you would look like.
Going through you, that is your pages and cover, I realized you were perfect for me. You are like I am. I have refused and still refuse to be weighed down by my many life situations and circumstances, choosing to remain sane. Your sheets made me get you. The pages allocated for each day of this year is spacious enough for a thirsty writer like me. A writer that never is contented with the words that have been written and chooses to continue writing till she's sure she has kind of or accurately written down her view towards a thing.

I thought to myself that perhaps you should not be described as a proud book, but a shy one that didn't know how to be simply beautiful without using its beauty to attract.

I bought you.
You became mine.
You became I, Moradeun's property with the short transaction of money and receipts.

Welcome Me.
I will try my very best not to neglect you. I will consciously and willingly take you on my life journey.
I'm already in love with you and your yet empty pages!
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🙌Here I come with words that touch!
Do read through, comment and like.
Much love! ❤🙏

* This chapter is dedicated to my amazing babe that inspired me to get my dying writing self back to life atarofavour with her beautiful ongoing work; Tales of Halima!
Cheers to much more.

•593 words.

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