It's amazing how things that don't last, mean the world to us.
I started keeping this diary sort of thing lately. Not a diary exactly. But yeah, you could call it that. It is well hidden. Actually, I think that the best way to hide things is to leave it in plain sight, so that people wouldn't expect it to be there. Anyway, I'm supposed to be talking about the pen I leave in the diary, rather than the diary itself, so let me get to that.
I found this pen while I found this diary, one day while cleaning out an old cupboard. So it was like fate. I knew they were meant to be - the diary and the pen. So I decided to leave the pen inside the diary and to only use that particular pen to fill my diary. And every other day I wrote in the diary with that very pen and I made sure that it was kept back safely in the diary after each of my short writing breaks. Time passed.
I know it sounds completely senseless, what I am saying right now, but believe me, it will make sense to you - someday. I don't know when that is, but please do remember that there is a someday. I knew the ink was going to run out. I knew that the pen wasn't going to write forever. Forget forever, I knew that it was going to last only a very short time. It was a half used pen that I found, after all. Still, I went on with my life and the school-girl hope that good things happen and last. And I continued writing in my diary.
Until that one day. The inevitable had to happen. Let me tell you dear reader that while I was writing this very peice of writing, the writing started to get fainter and fainter. I knew that the end was near. Yet, I wasn't ready to give that easy. I did what every school going kid would do; shook it a lot and hoped to God that it would start writing again.
But, no. Even these words are in broken pieces as the writing has gotten fainter and fainter. I can only wonder if I will ever be able to fill this diary, for I had promised myself that I will do so, only with this pen.
The pages have been blank ever since.