Dear diary.

by - 7:32 PM

Writing the diary. What a feat! Domain of children at the primary school, of teenagers which are surviving the first quarrels and love affairs, are complaining of pimples on the face, the period and the bad weather. Childishness.
Yes, I admit - for long years, and through the major part of my life I've been actually thinking the same way, I wasn't for the confession to the notebook, and what's more it was funny and incomprehensible for me, why people play such things and are wasting time. Indeed, this way I could see it, I perceived as the nursery school and the waste of time, something what the adult man shouldn't deal with.
As far as in December of the last year I found the book which totally changed my look at this issue. It showed me this from the other side. In the inspiring and interesting way it encouraged writing "book of my life". Even though interested, I decided to try with tongue in cheek, not necessarily seriously, but still I didn't count on for a miracle, that I would preserve in practice. But well. In spite of the fact that I created something between the diary, the personal journal and the set of mantras and inspirations - I started to like it and every day write at least a few words there.
As for now my adventure lasts only a few months, I don't know how long it will survive, but I think that it's worthwhile doing it and I recommend everyone, provided that it's something own, personal and built with the heart, rather than the ready-made paper from the Internet or copy of someone's work and ideas. Then, even though at the beginning can seem a bit stupid, writing private, closed in front of world, notes of own thoughts and feelings can turn out to be priceless treasure years later, with our own small evidence of transformations which occurred in our approach and the thinking and of metamorphoses which took place in ourselves.

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