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I've never been much of a diary or a journal girl. Even as a kid I tried so many times to have a diary; but we never really got along. I remember starting to write on one of the pages and that it would take me sort of a half an hour just to find the best words to start with. Let alone if I made a mistake- or which was extremely often- to simply dislike the way I'd written any of the letters. That page? It had to be destroyed immediately. And so it happened; until after 5 pages being ripped up, I'd get tired and bored and come up with the conclusion that for my sanity and the diary's survival, we had no choice but to stay away from each other. At least what the writing thing concerned. Next, I would put the diary on the top of my desk (securely locked, just in case) so from time to time I could admire the picture that it had on its covers (it usually was a beautiful one).

Probably I had my own type of diary- the drawings I made could, and I guess can still, tell a lot about me. There is nothing a person can hide.

I'm glad to have found this place. It fees like a different dimension; as dreamy as the reality could be, and as real as a dream could be. And believe me, some dreams are very powerful.

Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!

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