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Diary

Dear Diary.

She read the words quietly, using her eyes. For an unknown reason she can't comprehend,  there's an urge with in her wanting to cry.

Why? She asked herself.

I don't know the answer.  The other side of her brain answered back.

She pulled the diary closer to her nose,  inhaling the familiar sweet,  musky lingering smell that wafted towards her. It exactly smell like memories.

Memories that had been hidden behind the deepest abyss of oblivion,  meant to stay there forever.  But it seems no matter how unreachable those memories are,  they are slowly coming back to her now.

Her eyes began to trace the soft strokes of italic ink written on the first page. The handwriting was similar to her own.  At first the words are difficult to understand but looking closely at it now,  like some kind of genius,  she could effortlessly read the words written in reverse.

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