It holds all my secrets and experiences I've had through the years. This hard-covered, flowery book is my valuable treasure; no one else's prying eyes may discover. And after all its time being buried underneath clothes that haven't fit me since elementary school, it still serves its purpose. As a lifeline I can trust with my deepest wishes, that I've put all my heart into. Well, I re-discovered you while I was cleaning out the attic. I picked you up, and rushed into my room, browsing the pages that I filled with my nonsense secrets and sloppy handwriting. Some of the pages were crinkled, from my dried tears that had found their way onto the paper.
I could picture my young self, lying on my belly, scribbling my deepest thoughts and wishes to you. Have you really sat up here all this time, waiting for another soul to pick you up? I clutched you to my chest and smiled to myself. You were a prize I was going to keep for myself. You didn't deserve a trip to a garbage can after all you've done for me.
We rode along on the road, heading to who knows where. I read you cover to cover, not missing even the tiniest sketch. You were freshening my memories that had begun to disappear. The first time I had a boyfriend I really cared about, my old best friend who'd stabbed me in the back. My mom had looked in her rear-view mirror, and asked me what you were. I explained this was the diary you bought for my birthday. She had smiled, then turned her focus back to the road. "I remember how you used to love writing inside it, every chance you got." she said to me. Used to?
What made me stop loving this little wonder? If I used to care for it so much, how did it end up buried under old school clothes? Well, I knew the answer, but I didn't really admit it to myself until now. In life, the things you connected with and loved will, mostly, fade away.
Also, I now realize that I hadn't found you by irony or chance.
Something tells me the reason I found you was so that you would show me how to hold on to the things I loved.