A Kind of Diary

There was a time when I wrote many songs and sang them in front of people.

For a while, I blindly believed my future would simply continue along that path.

Eventually, many things slipped out of alignment, and it did not happen.

Still, the songs remained.

I tried playing and singing one of the songs I wrote long ago.

It felt strangely similar to reading an old diary.

I have never been able to keep a diary.
There was a short period when I tried, but at some point I deleted everything.

Yet when I sing those old songs, the feelings from that time come back very directly.

In a way, they feel even more like a diary than a diary itself.

Perhaps this was simply the form that suited me.