I re-read my old diary and I feel a very far distance from the me of the past. Like, the only thing relatable and I look forward to reading in that diary is the stories I wrote in the spur of moments. Quite a waste. Such a beautiful book but I can't even use it to recognize who I truly am.
But the diary helped me to contain my emotions. It trained me to think things through before acting. It's a good therapy. So now I'm writing this here because I feel like typing something. I'm actually in a quite disturbed state right now. I'm having some problems but I hope it'll be solved soon. I will solve it soon. Some mistakes might be made in order to find the true answer, and I will have to carry the burden of the many mistakes but it's okay, that's life.
Hmm what else...
I'm actually taking quite a good care of my laptop. It's not broken yet so that says something. Different story with my phone, I've changed it 3 times I think since after SPM. or maybe 2 times, I forgot.
There's actually one more think I want to tell you but this kind of thing is better kept secret. It's a good news but I'm afraid me telling it here will jinx it.
