Chapter 1
Dear Diary,
I know it’s been a while and we barely know each other but I just wanted to talk to you more. We had a real connection last time and I wanted to improve on that. I know for a fact that I know more about you than you know about me. For example, I know that after our last one sided conversation you’ve been having a real party with the dust bunnies and candy wrappers in my second desk drawer for the last couple weeks. So, if you must know anything about me it’s that I’ll be 19 years old in four days. The first 18 years of my life is unknown to you but does the past really matter that much? I don’t believe it does. The past only matters as much as I let it be. I know the past has gotten me this far and that’s what matters. What’s another 50 years?
You know, the common factor of almost every birthday I’ve had is thinking of my mortality and legacy. If I die the next day, has anything I’ve created or accomplished up til that point matter? What will I leave behind? My vinyl records? My paintings? My diary? All my favorite things? Pieces of my life in seemingly materialistic possessions. And what about me? Where do I go? Some have theorized that heaven and hell exist because many want to believe life is everything but cruel and ultimately meaningless. And I think that’s honestly amazing. But I unfortunately cannot find in myself to believe that anything I do while I’m alive will have any depth post mortem. What I will do is live like everything has meaning no matter what until the very end.
And you know what else is odd, Diary? I believe I’ve come to the exact same conclusion on most of my birthdays.
