MY DIARY

  Do you ever miss those days when life felt so simple—when we’d ask our moms if we could help with house chores, and she’d smile and say, “You’re too young for that”? Back then, we’d get excited thinking that growing up meant freedom and fun. We never realized that growing up meant carrying the very responsibilities we once ran away from. As kids, we were scared of the dark—that deep, silent mystery at night. But over time, we stopped fearing the dark. Instead, we began to fear something far more real—facing the reality of life itself. The darkness outside became less terrifying than the chaos within. We used to spend hours with our friends and family, asking endless questions, feeling like little geniuses as our parents patiently answered each one. We believed our grandma’s bedtime stories were real—dragons, fairies, heroes — all of it. Those stories felt magical because they were told with love. Now, as adults, we’ve drifted away from those moments. The same family gatherings...

   I met one of my dearest friends when I was just ten years old. It was my first year at a new school, and everything felt unfamiliar—new faces, new teachers, and a new environment. During those early days, my father used to drop me off at school on his bike every morning. I remember feeling both excited and nervous as I held onto him, wondering what each day would bring. After a few weeks, my father became too busy with work to take me to school himself. So, I started travelling to school in the school van. That simple change turned out to be a blessing, because that’s where I met her —the girl who would become one of my closest friends. She was my age, cheerful, and full of life. At first, I struggled to talk to her because I was a little shy and had some trouble speaking. But her kindness and warm personality made it easy for me to open up. Before long, we were chatting every day and laughing together. By the time we were thirteen, we ended up in the same class. I was deli...