A while ago, I had some problems with myself, my family and my friends. I had no one to talk to because I didn’t want to bother those, who were still speaking to me, with my burdens. Then a girl I’ve known for years told me that keeping a diary really helped her and that I should give it a try. I said to my self: “Everything else failed, why not?”

I almost gave up before I had even started. Finding a pen in the chaos of my, otherwise well organized, room was pretty hard. I’m probably the only person that doesn’t have a pen just lying around for everyday use. When I looked at the blank page I started asking myself what was I doing and would this really help me? For a while I, also, wondered where I should start - I had no idea what I was going to write.

I looked around at the purple walls of my room searching for inspiration. Suddenly I decided to just write what came to me. I started pouring out my problems on the pages of an empty notebook I had found. I went from school to friends, from my parents to my attitude. In around 10-15 minutes I had already written 2 pages, which was fast even for my wide handwriting. And when I looked back at the purple wall, my mind went blank like a canvas waiting for an artist to start painting. I didn’t understand what had happened at that moment, so I just dated the entry and put the notebook and the pen away. I went surfing on the internet for whatever things came across my mind. My thoughts were going faster than I could open new tabs in the browser or write in the search bar.

The night went on with a meaningless “stroll” through cyberspace. I went to bed and almost immediately fell asleep. In the morning I had no memories whether I had dreamt something or not. My mind was still empty and up for anything. My friend and I had a tradition – we always drank our coffee together during schooldays so we can discuss everything while it was still fresh.

I got dressed, put on some boots I found and went over to her place. I knocked on the door politely and just went in without waiting for an answer – it was unlocked like every time I came over. Like always, she was already getting the coffee done and finding some music channel to use as background to our conversations. We sat in the living room and started talking about what had happened in the last 12 hours or so – we had a non-stop connection so we just talked about our dreams, our plans for the day and older happenings which deserved our attention. In other words – we LOVED a nice morning filled with coffee and gossiping.

Just as we were half way through our coffee, I told her what had happened to me while I was writing. She said it had never happened to her and that it was probably helping me since I seem to have forgotten my problems, even if it was under such strange circumstances. I thought about it and decided that it might have been for the best. We finished our coffee and I got back home to prepare for an afternoon of school and more problems to come.

Just like always, most classes were boring as hell. To add to that, term ending wasn’t making them any more attractive to stay in – everyone screaming about their end-of-term grades. I got out a notebook, put my headphones on and starting writing “the diary” again. I wrote about 5-6 pages in that class and 2 more in the next. After that I felt empty-minded again. It was really strange, but this time I felt better about it. Suddenly a smile appeared on my face and I felt happy, despite the anarchy that was going on around me. I called my friend in the next break and told her what had passed. She told me that it was obviously helping. I was actually helping myself be happy!

When I got home that day, I sat down to think about everything that had happened in the past two days. In those 48 hours I had helped myself more than in the last two years. Maybe my friend was right. Keeping a diary was a good idea. It wasn’t obligatory to share my feelings to another person. A piece of paper and a pen was all that I needed. I went on writing in the notebook until it was full. Then I got another one and filled it out too. Everyday became easier to go through since I didn’t have all those thoughts in my head. It was like a burden was shed of my shoulders. I thanked my friend for days on. She had shown me that sharing comes in many forms, and that it’s not necessary to have someone who might judge your decisions.

A couple of months later I was a new person. Happy, smiling and just enjoying life. I was meeting people, making new friends and helping old ones. One day, a girl I had known for years came up to me and told that I had changed for good. She asked me how I did it and I told her the story of my experiment with the diary. She was really sceptic so I just told her to give it a try. She looked at me, smiled, and said:” Why not?”