We keep our diaries hidden

The volumes speak words, most I never utter aloud. These are the secrets I keep. They range in topic from the terribly silly to the gravely serious. My confessions of sadness, happiness, love and stupidity are scribbled over the pages of 11 books. The earliest dates back 15 years. Each volume does not represent a year. Some have taken 2 to finish due to lack of commitment, some only months. The books themselves are not all ones I picked out. The books of my choosing represent my spirituality of the time I wrote. I have one that reflects day and night when I first realized the cycle of depression I was going through. There is one of a stone Thai Buddha that is calming and peaceful. There is one that looks like the Necronomicon from Evil Dead/ Army of Darkness that is filled with turmoil (not a planned event). Others that were given to me include one with a palm tree, and one with a french book cover. I bought one tonite that has a flowering tree with Kanji. It will be volume 12.