Octoatlantis's Dear Diary

Who am I? I ask the sea. I search amidst its blue, its waves dancing to their own beat. All sadness is left to stew, as I’m slowly dragged from my seat. For a while, I’m engulfed in the past, but silence is all that lasts. The sunray and salt

Dear Diary,  I have no idea why I'm actually writing in this website. I've heard people complaining how it's weird to go on a run because you just have to go to the streets and take off so suddenly. This feels just like that, writing and pouring out