First of all i ask for apologies
for i'm not engraving this on your body but somewhere else.
I hope you hold no grudges against me.
You've been a friend of mine
from a long long time.
It's now been three days since we last talked.
Well i wanted to have a conversation with you on Saturday
but i couldn't and you know why.
You know everything about me.
I have decorated you with my smiles
and in times i've washed you with my tears as well.
I have shared my stories with you.
I have created fantasies with you.
I have made fairy tales come alive with you.
I have been ME with you.
And you know pretty well that the stories
weren't just words written on paper.
It was more than that.
Those were my silent screams the world left unheard.
Those were the songs i sang that just disappeared in thin air.
Those were little fragments of me i pasted on you.
It was all me.
Thank you for being there for me.
Thank you for just listening and never questioning back "What", "why", or "How".
Thank you for being the one i can share the world with.
Thank you for being a friend that i can count on.
I know sometimes i write shitty stuffs in you.
Sometimes i tear parts of you
and rip your soul apart.
And sometimes i simply forget that you even exist and leave you for days
and come back as if nothing happened
and yet you welcome me back with a smile.
I can feel you being happy the very moment i turn the first page.
I can feel your excitement.
I can feel your heart race.
I can feel your blood pump.
I can feel you.
That moment you become one with me.
I am no longer turning pages of an inanimate object but myself.
It feels as if i am traveling inside my own consciousness.
It feels as if i am inside me.
And then that is where i find someone else.
Someone else whom i love more than i love you Diary.
Someone who you know pretty well too.
After all that's what i have always been writing about in you.
After all her name is tattooed all over your body.
A girl that i kept in you.
A girl whose stories i engrave in you.
A girl who is the poetry on your pages.
You know her just the way i do.
After all i never have hidden anything about her from you.
What i know about her, you know that too.
And who else but you can know that she is my living diary.
Where i pour words in you, i pour feelings on her.
Where i write stories in you, i create stories with her.
Where i spend time with you, i make memories with her.
Where i sit down and spend time in loneliness with you, with her i travel the wilderness
i feel the excitement
i feel the love.
With you i am alive, With her i live my life.
Where you just sit numb when i end the page with "i Love you "
she replies me back "i love you too".
You can never be the number one.
But nonetheless i love you too.
But She is my living diary, I create fiction world with you
whereas i live the real world with her.
You can only contain some parts of literature i know,
She is literature herself.
She makes me free
She makes me live my life
Or else i would just be wrapped in chains and trapped in cages.
Heaven is always in her arms, and yes, sometimes in your pages.