Dear Diary, Bare Blog

Every time I open this page I wonder why I made it. Besides the obvious fame that I have reached, I was told blogging is about putting your thoughts into words, a newfangled concept about upending your brain and showing it to the world.
Kind of exactly like the oldfangled concept of keeping a diary, but somehow innovative. Somehow.
I have to admit that being a girl I tried to be exceptionally special by writing a diary like all the other exceptionally special girls around the world. I tried to be diligent too, therefore I had three diaries over a span of 9 years, each with only about five pages used over time before they were employed for better purposes, e.g. solving complex algebraic equations in the rough for assignments.
I even once had the very rare type of pink diary with a heart-shaped lock that every other emotionally stunted girl possessed, with a key that doubled as a very useful piece of tin that is of no use.
I had an extremely eventful childhood, as one could’ve guessed from the consistent mention of the term “bored”, strewn generously over my carefully worded prose that was written as carefully as a one-year-old carefully handles fireworks. I.e. very carefully, and with care. Unlike all the girls who used the word “kewl” I often used the word “kewl” to set myself apart and many a times I wrote down lyrics of pop songs by boy bands, a practice only practiced by a handful of millions of adolescent females.
Safe to say I always maintained my individuality, especially by doing something as commonplace as writing a diary. And then as I grew older, something not many have experienced, I noticed a very subtle shift as suddenly everyone jumped onto the internet bandwagon very suddenly in a subtle manner. I realized writing a diary by hand had become extremely rare hence everyone must blog to value a handwritten journal entry.
So I decided to make a blog too, and spent hours typing this post in five minutes to figure out where I kept those old diaries.
I have checked the drawer of all-things-miscellaneous and found everything that is not a diary. I suppose the fruitless search has been highly successful; I certainly seem to have collected quite a lot of receipts from the ATM machine. But that is a story for later.