You are ending, and with you will probably end this journal. It’s a quiet place when you’re not around; when I opened it I visited frequently, using this space to, well, journal my life. Then you came along and gave me a reason to write my life, not just log it. Opening up windows onto the past has helped me find myself in the present. I should say something about my future, but that would be expected, so I’ll just say this: because of you, dear Idol, I’m less inclined to just bounce along on the wind, more likely to think and to plan. Thank you.
I’ve moved my life-talk out of this hiding place, and it has become, like the things we each of us leave behind, a shell of memories. I come back from time to time to excavate, revisiting the stories I told myself about myself. They’re hidden from the world now; perhaps one day I’ll share them again, when they’re ready and I’m ready to put a face and a name to them. For now, though, they wait in the dark, glinting gems lodged in stone.
Time now for one last mission, you and me. We are going to do a bit of digging. I don’t know what will turn up, but whatever it is, we’re going to find it together.