Woman on a mission.

I am going to start maintaining a diary, for the first time since ten years. I had burned all my diaries some time back, and now I feel that I lost so many memories. I have to start again, because I can’t take my memorizing powers for granted anymore. I am scared of forgetting the beautiful moments I have in my day, or the even the sad/testing moments, the beautiful people who couldn’t stay, and the ones who did. I need to document myself growing as a person. I don’t want my memories fade into oblivion while I am alive. I don’t want to be able to not recall a memory to recite it to my kids or my grandchildren to give an important life lesson, validation or even a laugh.

Maybe, just maybe someone might find this years after my death and maybe, just maybe find my life interesting or any other good adjective. And if afterlife exists, agh my soul will be the happiest soul alive to see someone think about a life that used to be mine. Even if I am sent to hell, that still might create a heaven in my mindscape.

What suddenly lead to this after ten years? Well, a person with an angelic voice asked me-“What if you only think I am a figment of your imagination, but in reality you’re the one who actually doesn’t exist. Or maybe this whole conversation is just happening in my head or maybe we’re just both dead.” This single text created a cloud of questions in my head.

So yes, for the first time in ten years I am going to start maintaining a diary and not burn it. I will be doing this out of fear, and I am glad I fear it.

About Me.

So here it is, my first ever blog post. This isn’t, however, my first ever introduction.

I could say that my name is Dia, that I live in Mumbai, that I have a golden retriever named Lucky, that I have a mild addiction to chocolate and a not-so mild addiction to books. I could say that.

That wouldn’t be a very good introduction, though.

Sure, it tells you all the things you could ever really need to know about me, so I suppose that it is a good introduction, by those standards.

It doesn’t, however, say the things I want it to say, so it’s not a good introduction.

It would be a good introduction if I wrote about the time I stayed up till five in the morning just to be reassured by a new friend that it’s okay to be scared sometimes.

It would be a good introduction if I wrote about the time I smiled at somebody sitting alone, because I know how much a smile helps when you’re lonely.

It would be a good introduction if I wrote about the time when I spent a whole half hour just gathering up the courage to compliment a complete stranger’s hair.

It would be a good introduction if I wrote about all the times when sleep seems better than consciousness.

It would be a good introduction if I wrote about he OCD issues that I struggle with.

It would be a good introduction if I told you who I am, not what I seem to be.

There aren’t enough words to tell you who I am, though, because even now, while writing this, I’m
discovering new things about what it means to be me.

I may never manage a good introduction for myself.

But, well, I can try.