dear diary
dear diary, yes, it was funny, in that particular way. it was exactly like we were posting mail addressed to nowhere. every day. we were falling all over ourselves at that one. laughing, yes. and crying, too, i think. other, weirder, ings too - the ones i am always trying to tell you about. in any case, you have not received a really good line in days. i think it was the one about the shoulders. and yes, i know, you might say months - every page is entitled to its opinion. and i can only apologise again for breaking our most recent moratorium on the phrase "what's the point." you know i tried, and in any case i'm not sure my shifting to writing about the moratorium itself granted you an awful lot of relief. maybe it will be a consolation that i have been spilling ink elsewhere. and i know, i know, but it was different kind of ink. and none of it formed words, really. that ink would have bled right through these pages. no. that ink would drown you. it would clog and erase you all in a shimmering mix of constellation. you'd be all brown mush, in the end. and i know, i know. but sooner. and i'll be honest - it's tempting. i know you think about it too. but what would be the point? yours, other things said
Yesterday :: Wednesday, 13th May 2026