Love

I do believe in love. I just finished reading one of my childhood books. A trilogy actually. Emily of New Moon, by L.M.Montgomery. I know I was led along the very path the reader was intended to. I was meant to feel the longing and the unjustness of it. Just like in Anne of Green Gables before it, I felt so sad about the characters long wasted years of being apart, because neither had told the other how they truly felt. This is a theme in so many old stories. When Emily was to marry her friend, though she didn't love him, I felt my mind race to get to the bit where she would realise her mistake, for surely she must end up with Teddy. Weddings, funerals, births and scandals. Plenty enough to talk about in a small town back then for years. Both Emily and Anne made me want to keep diaries, and write poetry. I never could get right into poetry though. Seemed like too many unnecessary words somehow. This is the closest I have come to consistently writing in a diary though. I don't know if it is technically a diary though when I don't really keep an account of the goings on around me.