Reflections of a Diary

In my time I've heard many say that getting old is the worst thing that can happen. I, for one, am quite content with it, though I know I don't have much time left. Perhaps that hang-up is better suited for humans.

I've been the same girl's best friend for many years now, and she still begins each of our conversations the same way--"Dear Diary". Not that she hasn't changed over the years, though she's always been convinced on and off that she's in love with a new boy every week. As for me, well, all I can do is listen. I'm proud to say that I probably know more about her than anyone else does--perhaps even more than she knows about herself.

I have been with her through all of her tribulations, all her moments of triumph, and just about everything worth crying about, whether tears of joy or tears of sorrow. Alas, I only have so many pages left for her to pour her heart out onto, but although I know that I will soon have to be replaced, I have no fear of being thrown away or anything of the sort. She has told me herself that she'll keep me forever, and years from now will revisit me and be entertained for hours. It makes me quite proud to know that I can cause so much amusement, despite the fact that she's the one who did most of the talking. And, of course, without me being there all the time to listen, she would never have had so many revelations concerning herself... yes, I think I've done a pretty good job.