The Forgotten Friend

Covered in red, with glistening gold letters, my journal sits alone in a chest. Neglected and lonely, it waits to be wanted. I am usually too busy to pay attention to it. My journal, though often abandoned, never holds grudges. As soon as I start to feel down and need to express my emotions, it takes me back without a tinge of bitterness.

Its hard, bumpy surface whispers comfort to me. The turning pages, like fluttering wings, reminds me of my secrets it loyally keeps. Better than any good friend, it listens to my problems and never judges. My journal doesn't need to speak for me to know that it understands my difficulties.

This item really is of simple design, a stack of papers bound together. Somewhere a person cut down a tree and made this journal not knowing the place it would hold in my heart. All the money in the world can't buy a friend as kind and trusting as mine.

Although it remains silent, it is wiser than me. Only a true genius could solve all my problems without uttering a single syllable. The more I write, the smarter it grows, the smarter it grows, the closer we become. Friendships perish and new ones arise, but the bond my friend and I share will never die.

Years will go by, and I may forget my dear journal. It might sit alone once again in a forgotten chest, simply waiting for me to remember it once more. One day I will stumble upon it. I will laugh at the petty drama that meant so much to me back then and cry as I remember the tragedies that I had to face. Over time, I will change and forget, but my sweet companion will live on true. My journal keeps the memories that I carelessly let slip away.