Writing after such long time is like opening an old diary...you cannot help but read your previous posts and think of those times when you had written them. Then some additional time to realise that it was actually you who has written that stuff.
An old diary which has the name of a song that reminds of a few beautiful hours at a place or of a particular person. Then there are things about a sms that are sent to concerned people when you had the first Vadapav of your life. Possibly a bucket list which is edited numerous times with ticks and crosses all around. A few one-liners, some half written poems and stories. Sketches and highlights...the first time a heart is made on a page, the times when you see the blurred ink on a page coz of teardrops. The entries in which happiness is shared because no other was there to share when you were really happy. The pages that speak of being obnoxious and uptight with some others filled when you feel a little more lively are all put together and preserved.
There comes a time when you actually start personifying your diary..maybe give her a name and use pronouns for The Diary. She becomes the person you talk to when you are simply uninterested to talk to any damn person on earth. She is the one who wont complain if you selfishly speak only about yourself. You abuse her badly, she still lends an ear.
Would a friend in the entire universe do this for you ?
The only times when you need a friend are those when you need a reply...
