Women's diaries

2024 Author: James Gerald | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 14:00

Why did I just throw out my diary then? I still cannot forgive myself for this. On the eve of the wedding and moving to a new apartment, I was sorting through papers and notebooks, sitting on the floor of my room, and threw into the bucket everything that I was not going to take with me into my new life. There also flew a notebook in a brown cover, which I, having leafed through the last time, aloud called delirium.

Women's diaries contain a lot of interesting things. Now I am trying to recall its contents. Several of my photographs were pasted on the inside of the cover. In one of them, I, a fat 13-year-old girl in a swimsuit, stand on the beach. I have badminton rackets in my hands, a shuttlecock on my head. Below is the signature in pencil: "Will I ever be like this again?" Next is a photo of me, slender, almost emaciated, at the age of 16. As a person with poor eyesight, who sees paragraphs and words, but cannot distinguish letters without glasses, I recall the general view of the diary, but I cannot see exactly what is written there. Yes, there was sheer nonsense and nonsense. About boys, boys and more boys. About how my friend and I went out to the "square" (a party place in the center of the city) every day and cut circles, more precisely, squares along it. Someone they saw, someone they greeted, someone they winked at, someone they giggled at. Everything in great detail. Somewhere in the middle of the diary, my first all-consuming and unrequited love appears. And then the stream of consciousness went - thoughts without punctuation marks, capital letters, paragraphs, without beginning and end. His name is repeated a thousand times. A hundred times - the name. Here are a few pages of blurry ink, splashed with water and tears, written in the bathroom, where I sobbed to the sound of water. Between the descriptions of suffering, scrupulous notes appear again about where we went, who we saw, what we were wearing, what he said, what I answered. Not a word about school. Thirst for love. Little nonsense. The desire to part with virginity, realized soon without observing any safety rules. Satisfaction with the "tick" ("now I am a woman") and disappointment from the process itself. The diary ends, as far as I remember, with a summary. She parted with her virginity, graduated from school, went to university, lost so many kilograms in the summer and gained so many kilos in the winter, gained life experience and now I feel absolutely ready for adult life.

Why am I so sorry that I threw away this notebook with naive thoughts-revelations of a little girl who seemed so grown up to herself? Why did I suddenly need it? Probably in order to be able to show it to his 16-year-old daughter many years later. But the main thing is to read your diary yourself at that moment. To understand - that's what she has in her head now, the same thing that I had then! Remember, take for granted and not demand the impossible from your adult child!

Women's diary - diary of sadness and sorrow

Most of us write diaries as a teenager. Many take up the pen or sit down to knock on the keyboard only in moments of bad mood, sadness, feeling of uselessness, worthlessness. If you write a diary only in this way, and then also re-read it, nothing good will come of it. The bad mood will only intensify, and you will feel disgusting again, although, perhaps, you will find in this a special masochistic pleasure. But you don't have to throw away such records either. Let them lie until better times, when you mature and strengthen your self-esteem. Then it will be really interesting to reread them. Diary-chronicle Someone writes a diary pedantically, every day. As a rule, this is done by people who need a faithful friend. They often have no one to pour out their souls, it seems to them that no one understands them, and therefore they talk and consult with themselves, with their reflection-diary. Or people of a literary mind do this, having a need to pour on paper everything they saw and heard, so that, possibly, later use their notes to write a work of fiction.

Flash Diary

Some write women's diaries from time to time, when there is a free minute, and then the entries turn out to be not exclusively sad and not consistent, but different, like scraps torn from the canvas of life. Such a diary is written slowly and is replenished with entries once or twice a month, but ten years later, when rereading, a motley picture of joyful, boring and fateful moments of your past rises before your eyes, which will never be repeated again.

Girl's diary

The name speaks for itself. Almost every girl had such a diary (although it can only be called a diary with a stretch). A notebook, a notebook or, at best (oh, my unfulfilled dream!), A beautiful pink book with silk ties or with a lock and key, "so that no one, no one reads." Data about yourself and your girlfriends were entered there, questionnaires, fortune tellers, lyrics, lesson schedules, stickers with hearts or faces of your favorite actors, wise sayings like: "Love the one you like, not the one who walks after you", were placed there, and only occasionally did the diary entries slip through. All this breathed with naive falsity, coquetry and the understanding that the "secrets" pasted in and written on these pages will be seen not only by you, but also by your friends, classmates, and even, perhaps, he, the boy you are guessing at about everything fortune tellers known to you for two weeks in a row.

Mystery Diary

There is another option for keeping a diary, seemingly for the lazy, but in fact with a double bottom. You don't write a single sentence, not a single word, not a single letter in a notebook. And just glue everything that can be pasted connected with significant events or minor joys of your life: tickets, receipts, tags, programs, newspaper clippings, invitations, telegrams, etc., etc. The only condition is that you need to glue in chronological order.

The most interesting thing will start in a few months or even years. You open the diary and you will see a heap of pasted papers. Where are they from? What the hell are they doing here? What year were you glued? Take a closer look. See, two tickets for the movie Night Watch? And the date is - July 20, 2004. So it was summer, heat. You suddenly remember that you were in a white dress with red cherries and slippers with small heels. So easy, joyful. Who did you go to the movies with? Yes, with her current husband! Then you just met and have not even kissed yet. We sat in the 20th and 21st places of the seventh row in the darkness of the auditorium, ate popcorn, and when Anton Gorodetsky fought to the death with the vampire hairdresser, your hand convulsively grabbed the strong hand of the future husband. So you sat until the credits. And then they walked, talked a lot, kissed. But you might never remember this if it weren't for the two blue tickets pasted in the center of the page. The mystery diary fished out memories from the farthest corners of your subconscious.

Some don't write diaries at all. Someone disgustedly throws out their youthful "notes", as I threw them out. And yet, these women's diaries, written in small or large handwriting, have their own special charm, for the sake of which they are worth keeping. After all, every word we write, every ticket pasted in with meaning is already the history of not only our life, but also the life of the country and society. Now all this seems so insignificant and petty, and in forty or fifty years we ourselves or our children, or maybe our grandchildren, will read these yellowed pages with rapture, like an old manuscript, and see how the world has changed and how unchanged human feelings have remained. thoughts, desires, dreams.