Except that, I don’t write a diary.
I think keeping a diary is a way of conversing with oneself- much like soliloquy, but in a more elaborate fashion of course. Because, it is really difficult to find someone you could share everything with, who can understand you, and wouldn’t judge you for the absurd things in your head. Someone who could feel you. So people befriend themselves- they keep diary, and pour themselves totally onto it.
This life, I am 25 years old. I’ve lived one third of my life already. I’ve been a good son, good brother and a bad boyfriend so far. I’ve been a good student- now I’m a medical doctor, I earn good money, I enjoy my work, but I am not satisfied. My aspirations are different. But I am so busy doing my job, I don’t have any time left for doing what I’ve always dreamed of doing. And this realisation that I am letting my dreams die out is making me depressed- its like a train honking out of the station- the train I should catch, but I am too frozen to move, maybe little scared to abandon my comfy little place- uncertain of where the train’d take me. Nevertheless, I know in my heart that’s my train.
Nepal’s seriously wronged, by its corrupt incompetent leaders, and by its ignorant, reluctant citizens. I live in a country where there’s load shedding 12 hours a day, kids read in darkness- kids, that we call future of our nation. Well, since this is supposed to be a diary-like I’m not going to repeat everything that’s wrong with my country- can’t bore myself- but in the back of my head, I know, what my country is while what it could have been. I want to make things better. I know I can. And its something I always wanted to do.
Divine intervention- these two words I pick from Dan Brown’s novel. Though it turned out to be something else in the fiction, I like the idea- some out of the world power manifesting somehow to show us the right direction. Not in the magnitude of miracles, but I believe God(?) expresses himself in small things- subtle clues. There are things that have happened in my life that I happily remember as God listening to me- I decided that with a fine reasoning.
But then, it was not just God. It was me actually, that worked hard, that smiled, that persisted, that used brains, common sense, sweet talks- that solved the problems.. I tend to be careless when I depend on God, weak, dependent type. Its like not doing homework and going to school hoping, praying that the strict school teacher wouldn’t come. Sometimes, he didn’t- but most of the times he did. God won’t pick you up everytime you fall. What happens to you, is mostly the consequence of what you do.
So I decide, most of my disappointment is due to my inaction, my failure to do all the things I mean to do. I’ve been into difficult situations due to my doing something, but my regrets are more for those times when I didn’t do.