Out of whim, I searched for the box where I kept my college stuff. The last thing I remember was that I kept all those things inside boxes. The “me” I know is quite organized. I must have labelled them somehow or even have an inventory of the school supplies. I can trust the old me to have kept them safe but somehow I can’t remember what happened to those things upon getting home. My mother must have stored them somewhere and I only have an idea as to where.
It’s hard to sleep when your heard is full of thoughts racing around with no direction. I think it started with the thought that I wanted to “write”… not type but write… I wanted to write a journal, a diary. From that I tried to recall when the first time I wrote on a diary. I think a project of some sort gave me the idea and from there I wanted to continue my own. So that was around grade school? I do not really remember. I remembered that I had a white notebook that I treat as my diary back when I was in college. That was my college life, or some of it, in written form and it was all inside one notebook. I sat up and decided to look for that diary. I wanted to read it and remember who I were back in my college days.
I searched my mother’s room. Under heavy plastic bags and other boxes that have contents I don’t know of, I found my boxes. Of course they looked the same as the last time I saw them. The index cards, new pencil, crayons, blue books and notebooks are still there as if waiting for me to use them for the new semester. Call me melodramatic, but seeing those things made me feel like greeting a very close old friend. It was nostalgic. I remember that I often get excited every start of the semester just by looking at school supplies. It was unfair and totally wasteful for me to leave them here when they can still be used so I salvaged some of the things that I could pass to my little sister. I know she could put them to good use.
After a while of digging around in the end, the diary was not there.
I just hope that the little memory of bringing that diary and some stuff back in the condominium is not a dream. I guess I just have to trust the previous “me” for that.
However all this searching didn’t end with nothing. I found my other diaries: grade school and high school. Somehow if this was accurate, then my official diary started when I was in Grade 4.
I tried to fall asleep by reading my Grade 4 self's handwriting and it was a very funny experience indeed. I noticed that I had a big problem with “dairy” and “diary”. I also found it cute that I used to write the time of my sleep to end the entry of the day: “I slept at 9:00” or “I slept at 8:30”. There are so many things that I don’t remember anymore while reading but it was nice to know the names of past friends or to know which toy I played for hours. I also read about the first time I got a laptop and how I thought designing cards was a game.
I decided to read this maybe until I get a new notebook I could write my life to. I know I already have a blog for that but of course there are some things that I want only the future me to read about. At some point the idea of innermost thoughts being all public scares me.