Saturday, 10 September 2011

A Letter to my Diary

Dear Diary,

How long it has been since I last shared my thoughts with you! Even though this is precisely how I would start every single entry, this time it has been long, indeed. Why have I thus abandoned you and moved on to other mediums of expression, oh confidante of my childhood? Just because my writings were limited to your pages alone (or the occasional nosy parker who would peep through!) does that mean I abandon my old loyal friend and move on to other fickle companions?

Things have changed a great deal since I befriended you in the 90's. The advent of the internet has changed the way we express ourselves. As we have discovered a medium that makes our writings available to the world, who would need to keep a diary and undergo the tedious process of picking up a pen and writing hoping that some day a curious passer-by will read it, publish our work and make us famous? Other than the occasional teenager who uses your time-worn pages to lament unrequited love or doodle in idle time, gone are the days when great writers and thinkers recorded journeys and events in diaries. Who needs to labour with the art of beautiful handwriting when you can write perfectly legibly using a keyboard? 

As handwriting turns into a scrawl, and words lose their essence, blogging, tweeting and commenting is increasing in momentum. Yet can our Blackberries, iPhones, iPads and laptops replace the personalised experience that writing with pen on crisp paper brings? Nothing can make up for the beauty of words gradually taking shape as the pen caresses the page etching our words to be preserved in time to be opened many years later and the experience relived. As I flip through your pages, I can still smell the scent preserved in your folds with loving care, visions jump up at me of childhood memories preserved in writing and lessons learnt are re-learnt.

Alas! Times change and so should we. Who knows when I need the privacy of your scented pages to record moments of silent frustration and soak your pages with tears of agony like I used to? After all, don't they say that a loyal friend stands the test of time? 

Your old fickle friend,