2018, around May or June, I started keeping a diary. It sounds Archaic, right? Nevermind.
Writing is one of my favourite pastimes. It gives me a sense of purpose and satisfaction. In my diary, I wrote practically everything, thoughts coming through to my head, events of the day, activity boxes and daily plans.
I still have this diary even though I rarely write in it anymore simply because I find it difficult to make the time.
Putting words down is no easy task, for those who know.
I admire writers because I know just how difficult it is to put feelings, imaginations into words, words into sentences, sentences in paragraphs and simply go on and on, playing the word game.
The honesty in words, the courage to share. I know this because true writers simply do not lie.
I still get flashes, important ideas I feel compelled to jot down and I either jot manually or make a note on my phone.
Anyone going through my diary would discover my deepest and best kept secrets lol, but since most are from 2018, it's less scary to think about someone discovering my diary. Going through my diary, you would see that 2018 was the most productive year of my writing career and that I can be regarded as practically useless in writing in 2019. Of course, I've read more books, and my grammar, composition and comprehension have improved, yet I didn't employ all this to putting down thoughts in black and white for my grandchildren to read.
2018 might appear to be my most productive year based on what I've allowed the world to know through my writings but 2019 was the scariest, fast-paced year I've known yet which is why I cannot allow these experiences to fade to the dust of memory.
I put down the most important events of my 2019, the unforgettable moments as well as new friends and old friends who have become strangers.
It's 2020, and it's rugged.
I've decided I'm going to put more effort into writing like I used to. Hell, one of my new year resolutions was to improve my writing, but I am where I am!
Adetomiwa Oyedotun
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