I write down memories in this little cheap notebook; every now and then I just remember something in my past, or sometimes in the present, that I just don’t want to forget.

It’s weird, but it’s also personal. I was afraid to tell people about it. I bring the notebook to school, just in case I remember something.

Another weird thing is, I never really focus on the things I write about inside. Most of the stories are insignificant and don’t even pertain to anything at all.

Some are things I’ve tried to forget.

So I figured, why not write? What’s the worst thing that could happen?

The first day I had the notebook, I was up until one o’ clock in the morning with a flood of memories I just had to put down on paper.

Now, I’m stuck.

I told some of my friends about it. I figured it was stupid. I’m a pessimist. Why would they want to even read what I’ve written?

Most of them really did want to read it, but they think I’m weird for writing it.

I think I’m kind of weird for writing it too, but whatever.