It started with flowers, candies, and balloons (anything that made me happy) drawn in loose sheets of paper with a label and the date. At the time, I did not know that it was going to be the start of my love for writing and it would be a valuable memorabilia. I just did it for fun. I just wanted to keep a record of the things I discovered, the things I love, and the people I love. It also served to cheer me up. Whenever I was sad, all I had to do was look at my drawings and after a while I was ok.

Then I moved on to one sentence entries like Me, mommy, and daddy went to the carnival and It is raining and dad says I can not go outside to play in stapled pieces of Tweety and Hello Kitty stationery. It sure helped me in my English classes. Whenever I thought of something or felt something, I found myself formulating sentences to express myself.

When I was given notebooks in grade school, I asked my mom to buy me a small notebook and that became my first real diary. I finished one notebook each year. For Grade 5 and Grade 6, I had regular-sized notebooks. Writing had become a daily habit.

There was so much to write about during highschool. There were new experiences, new friends, crushes, heartbreaks (what my naive mind considered a heartbreak), and there were secrets (many of them) so I bought big beautiful diaries with locks. My diary had an added function. It was a vent for my teenage emotions.

I now have an entire volume of diaries. If someone were to write a biography of me when I die, he or she would only have to find where I keep my diaries and he or she would not need anything else. That is my entire life chronicled in there. In vivid detail.

Once, I actually had enough time and patience to read all my diaries. It took me 4 hours. Well, ok maybe it should have only been a 2 or 3 hour read, but I could not stop laughing and crying while reading it so that took some time. I could not believe how moody I was, or how paranoid, or how observant of the slightest details. I also found myself editing some of my early stuff (You would really see my writing progress). There were some code names I could not figure out (I had code names of colors and flavors of cake!). But grammatical errors and puzzling code names aside, I am really thankful that I kept diaries. It was a wonderful trip down memory lane. My diary is my life in print. Needless to say, my diary is a very dear part of me.

I still keep a diary now but I do not get to write in it as much as I would like to because I could get really busy sometimes. Also, my diary now is not just a diary anymore. It is also a collection of essays and poems.

Recently, I got absorbed reading the blog of my friends. Since I like writing anyway and I am on the net pretty much everyday, getting my own blog seemed a good idea. I was a bit hesitant at first because even if I am an open and expressive person, my writing is something personal. But then, I have always had this I want to share and make a difference instinct so I finally decided to get a blog.

Writing is something I really enjoy doing. You could even say that it is a passion. Preserving memories has kept me grounded and in-tune with my past. So I guess my writing is now moving on to a higher level.

Here is yet another diary in the Rachelle collection. Welcome to my world!