a letter from a distressed diary to its owner.
I regret to inform you that I am out of pages. Trust me when I say that I am relieved that I am out of pages, I’ve seen & read things no human could bare to hear and live another day to tell the tale.
Lets start with the first issue. You’ve never written a single happy moment, ever! I’ve only experienced rainy or stormy days, the worst was when you came home depressed. Man would I get an “inking“, get it? when humans are mad they give each other beatings, since I am a book, I get an inking. Sometimes you would throw me across the room, on the lighter side, it made me feel like I could fly but thee bad side is that I crash landed. To take you out of your curiosity I have a lame sense of humour, in this unpredictable industry one needs a sense of humour to be able to get by.
I’ve heard you singing along to sad songs as your tears dropped onto my clean beautiful pages and smudging ink all over. Sometimes you tore pages out or pressed onto the page so hard, if I were human I’d bleed. But I complain mostly of your bad singing, girl are you out of tune, you’re overqualified for wooden mic.
Look, I know its my job but I cant handle to be used in such a vulgar manner! I mean I know I was purchased at a particular price but the more you use me the more valuable i become because of the precious information I possess.
Anyway, my pages are finished and I have no good memory of us. So I advise you that please write all your emotions, good or bad. It will make things easier for you and your new diary.