We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep.

I am the gatekeeper of my own destiny,

The writer of the chapters from my novel life.
With squiggles across coffee dry, I glide my calligraphy

Throughout my biography- history.

The notes I make are unimportant, the meanings small and short,

Yet in this meaningless diary,

My entire life in report.

A date to go by with the writing, a pin point where to start,

A bookmark stroking its insides, from this diaries last resort.

Now if you find this novel,

A novel of human endeavour,

You may laugh at my incredible idiocy,

Or smile to your hearts content.

Of course through human nature,

The tears, I fear, may fall.

No persons entirehistory is free of any faults.

A one word page in 2006,

A blank one in 2003.

From January to May speaks of revision,

Whereas June replays times of wild party sprees.

Perhaps a photo, give or take, a memory caught on film.

A description beneath the afternoon,

A funny comment or two to boot.

I am the painter of my design.

I craft my life in charcoal grey,

Embroided loves and friendship buttons, as well as family recipes.

Some calculations, 1 x 3 from a maths book forgotten on the floor.

The diary portrayal of a vivid dream,

And we are merly players on its stage.

So when you come across my 'dear diary';

A spell be placed on you.

Remeber every word I wrote and support a couple or two.

Read this well and note the fact this once belonged to me.

Some one who wanted their privacy,

kept in a dear, dear diary.

Song of th day: 'This isn't my Idea' from the movie The Swan Princess

Artist link: http://justyna7.deviantart.com/

A memory written down is a memory sustained throughout life. In the end, these will be the ones you remember the most.

Precious memories include family, sadly enough to say, I havn't spent that much time with my family as of late, yet I hope that e-mail will be enough till I see you all again. Remember that I love you all, take care of yourselves.