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“I don't get the point of keeping a diary”, the fat one says

The other responds, “I don't either but it might be cool to look back at”

I enter the room, heart blazing- “I don't keep a diary, I document.

Not to write down gossip

And the small ongoings of my physical life,

The menial tasks of my days

-but to document

my evolution.

I am in the business of growing

I document my own blooming because it reminds me

How mystical and mysterious life is

When you get from point A to B

and look back at each petal in between,

Each thought, each moment of insight

that brought about the full flower

You get excited for the growing to continue

You understand this life isn't about finally getting there

And all the pain,

the life-death-life cycles ‘

no longer feel like suffering,

It feels like healing.

Growing pains become mysterious and exciting

And you embark into the greate nature of yourself.

I guess, then, what I mean to say

Is that I don't keep a diary or a journal-

I am not a writer.

I am a pioneer of the soul

And you know every great explorer

Kept a diary

You gotta write that shit down

To find out where you are

And where are you going?”