My Pale Pink Memories

To find one's childhood diary is quite an experience. I found myself slowly being drawn into this pale pink tome with its fairy perched on the back of a butterfly who was in deep conversation with a bumble bee. This diary of my childhood was where I wrote the intense feelings that poured forth furiously from my soul. These feelings came with a strength that dulls as one ages. After all, the woes of young love captured in those pages was so terrible that I knew that it would kill me - there are a couple of pages of that diary devoted to my child-will. Well, I am alive and more or less well. The blush of intense embarrassment might as well turned the pages of my diary deep red for how deeply I felt that embarrassment. My recorded moments of fury were vibrant and vivid entries where I felt that my anger would cause my diary to burst into flame. Even as I relived those moments of intensity, I could not help but smile at this child-me. There was something entirely enchanting about the chunky childlike handwriting sprawling across the pale pink pages and the flush of memories long forgotten.