Blank pages.

As some of you might know, I write a personal journal. Yes, the one I considered a novel.

So, as usual, after telling myself that I should probably sleep instead of watching youtube at 2 A.M. and ruining my eyes and brain, I turned to the red-covered diary sitting at my bed table, opened it up on today’s date and started scribbling.

It was on the left page. As I wrote about the completely boring things that happened today (yay no school tomorrow thanks storm!), my eyes shot towards the second page. The right page.

The blank page.

I was suddenly hit by an instant realization: my future lies between those pages. It is waiting to be written. And it’ll be written by my hand. But at the time of writing, it would already have been my past.

I did not think of it or ponder on it for one second. It was like an cartoonish lightbulb moment. Some sort of Eureka.

I looked again at the page, more intensely, like I could read between the lines, like if I looked enough, I would get a glimpse of what these lines hold, or will hold. Will have held.

It got me thinking. What if… What if I could write these pages right now? Fill them up with my expectations, or what I want to happen, or maybe even my deepest fantasies?

Who knows? Maybe it’s my Death Note, but instead of taking lives to extend my own, I just… Write my own?

The concept is fascinating and I would love to explore it. But I do feel like there have been books written about that before. It just really seems amazing.

I am now sort of fearful towards my journal. Who knows? I keep repeating to myself. Who knows what will happen during the 322 remaining days?

I dread the bad news so much that I can’t even consider what the good news might be.

If right now, you tell me that if I open my diary I will find it completely written, I’d be in total confusion and dilemma. I don’t know if I would want to read it or not. I’m leaning towards not, but still… I want to be prepared if something ever struck.

A realistic thing I could do is maybe write a little note to myself on random days, that’d be a nice – or maybe not – surprise for my future self (except if I remember writing those). Or maybe, put up little expectation boxes, goals I want accomplished, personal reminders…

For now, I’ll just keep writing daily. And just like you, just like everyone on this planet, I’ll have to wait for tomorrow to find out what it holds.

DID I JUST WRITE A NOVEL?! Also, a good omen.

Last year, I took the decision to start a journal (yes, JOURNAL, not diary. It just sounds manlier. Or slightly less girly) in which I’ll write everything that happened every day in my life (okay fine so it’s a diary).
I never really thought I’d follow through, but *gasp* I actually did!
So after a few self-congratulations, I was hit with a tantalizing realization zomg! (I had to add a third word with a Z because two just sounded weird)
I guess you can guess the realization by the title of this post.
Did I just write a 365-page long book?
Me? The boy who dreams of writing a book but is 100% sure there’s no way he’ll be able to come up with that much stuff?
It just completely blew my mind. I could print these out and sell them!
Well yeah the problem is that most of these consist of ‘Hi so I just woke up today and went to school, the headmistress was being a bitch as usual and I got an 18 in physics which is kewl. I went home and ate some pasta then studied nothing and read Elm’s blog all day long. Goodnight. *signs to make it official and like confidential and shit*’ BUT if people are willing to buy stuff like Allegiant and New Moon, why not this?
Okay so I did the wrong thing by offending two fandoms and I’m sorry I didn’t even mean it (I really don’t know why I’m hating on Allegiant so much gahd thanks a lot Goodreads for fucking my opinion up).
Anyway, it feels really, really nice to hold that book/journal/diary between my hands, and I just can’t stop brushing through the pages again and again and seeing the whole year flash by. I still can’t believe I wrote all that.
What I’m really excited about is that I’ve proven to myself that 1) yes, I can keep a diary (and I’m keeping one this year as well) and 2) I can write a 300+ page novel! (That one’s more theoretical but I’m still hanging on to it)
I remember that I promised myself to start on writing my book. The problem is that I don’t think the ideas are worthy at all (even laughable) and I doubt that I have the skills to write something I can be proud of. But you know, might as well try!
Wish me luck 🙂

Off-Topic PS: today I got my first grade of the year which is…
*drumroll* Tan Tarararan…
An A! Yaaaay *sparklez*
It was on a physics homework that we had before the holidays. Hm. Technically I presented it in 2015, but I’m still counting it as my first grade for 2016. Don’t ruin the moment.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been reading The Alchemist that I’m seeing omens in everything all of a sudden. Just kidding, I don’t really believe in them. I mean, I can recognize an ‘omen’ but I really don’t think it can change anything. Umim and Thumim or whatever these balls were called.
Okay I just realized that the old man gave names to his balls.
Welp, that’s enough internet for today Anthony. Go home. Please. For your sake.