The Freshly Pressed page is constantly disappointing me. One person after another people are complaining about how miserable their life is what tough times they’ve been through. I understand that a lot of people use blogs as an outlet to express themselves by how they are feeling, but some need an online diary, and then a personal one. Like the diary that as a teenager I hid under my bed so my parents couldn’t find it.
My high school diary was probably the most depressing novel ever written. I fell head over heels in love with a boy who stringed me along on a leash and constantly broke my heart. Every night I would write in my diary and fall asleep crying, ink running down the page from my tears.
After I got over him and was seeing a new boyfriend, my life was seemingly happier, but I still had resentment towards him. I wanted to hurt him, just like he hurt me. So, for his birthday I gave him a present. My old diary.
I don’t know why I did. I wanted to get rid of it because every time I saw it i felt a pain in my heart. I did not want to throw it out because it contained so much. In a crazed moment I wrapped it up in wrapping paper and gave it to him at school the next day.
I felt so liberated, empowered. I surrendered, and I felt the wonderful evil glow inside of me. I was scared what he would do with it, but at the same time I didn’t mind. And I went home smiling.
The next day I asked him how he liked his present. He spoke saddened, and could not look me in the eye. “It… was kinda… really depressing.” No surprise there.
“Emz, I am really sorry. I didn’t know how I made you feel, I mean, I knew what I did, I knew it would hurt you, but.. I guess I didn’t know how much..”
My empowerment went from liberating to pity. I was pitying HIM. The boy who hurt me so much. Why? Because it turned out I was over him a long time ago, and that it didn’t matter anymore, whether he was hurt or not. I replied casually.
“Hey, it’s alright.. I’m.. I’m okay now. I just.. wanted you to know-”
“-Yeah… I’m glad you did.. Thanks.”
But he wasn’t glad. He wasn’t glad for a long time after that.
In conclusion: If you give someone your depressing diary to read, it’s going to make them depressed. It may have something important to say, but it will still make them depressed.