What about the Diaries?
Time passes on, our entire life changes. Things become interesting, sometimes they go wrong. Fluctuations, change, flim flams that’s what life is about. You ignore everything and go on.
Then comes a holiday and while you’re cleaning your room you come across a diary. You clean the dust off the cover, revealing the sheen of its leather bound glory. You see the year of the print and realize that its time is long gone.
Yet as if drawn by an invisible force you flip through the pages. Dates fly by, memories boomerang back to your head and suddenly you stop on a rather unpleasant entry even in the stretched out time line. It’s a puny little incident but it comes to haunt you.
You feel disgusted by the horrible person that stares at you from the pages of the diary. The meek words that you once so easily said disgust you now. You realise how your life changed with time and incidents.
All the resolutions, the promises and little crushes poke at you through the diary. They remind you how much of a loser you are. How much you have not accomplished. How much you had wished. And if by chance you’re one of those people who make lists, you find several incomplete. And suddenly you find a chink in your perfect suit of armour. Something about your present has suddenly vanished. Your sense of self esteem is no longer pleased.
You wish to go back to that date in the diary. Change things. But then you’re reminded of the good things in the present. And then the darkest of the questions stare at you, its snake like eyes haunting you. What would you have done? Looked away? So easily? Is it so easy to ignore the question?
Would you have lived your life differently if you then knew that this would be your present?