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One Day I’d Marry My Notepad
<p>People laugh when I say it, but I mean it — one day, I’d marry my notepad.</p><p><br/></p><p>Why? Because no one understands me like those pages do. Blank, wide-eyed, patient. They never roll their eyes when I rant, never interrupt when I spiral, never sigh when I repeat myself for the tenth time. They just… hold me.</p><p><br/></p><p>I could tell the notepad my secrets at 2 a.m., and it would keep them. No gossip, no judgment. Just ink scars pressed gently into paper skin. Every word I bleed, it remembers. Every shaky line, it keeps. Unlike people, it never forgets what I said yesterday, or last year.</p><p><br/></p><p>I’ve tried talking to humans. They smile, nod, sometimes listen, but they forget. My notepad doesn’t. It carries me in scribbles and doodles, in half-finished poems, in shopping lists that turned into prayers. It’s the archive of my becoming.</p><p><br/></p><p>There is nothing like it. Phones die, files delete, people drift. But my notepad — it stays. Bent at the edges, coffee-stained, pages torn… but faithful. Always faithful.</p><p><br/></p><p>So yes, one day, I’d marry my notepad. Not because it’s perfect, but because it remembers all of me — the messy, the broken, the brilliant. And in a world that forgets too quickly, that kind of memory is love.</p><p><br/></p>
One Day I’d Marry My Notepad
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Ema's Seal
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Ema's Seal
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