Blue

My best friend is my diary.

It wasn’t that it was my best friend from the first day of arrival. There is a short history behind it.

I still remember the day I got it.

My brother and I were walking side by side on the bridge. It was my birthday. But no one ever celebrated it except for my elder brother. The sun was almost set. The sky was full of colours – crimson, light pink, indigo, orange – and the red sun sitting in the midst of all these beautiful colours. It was so beautiful.

“Blue,” he called me with sign language by the affectionate nickname that he gave me, “I got the best birthday gift for you this year.”

My brother had hearing impairment since birth. He couldn’t hear any sounds, and he started learning to use his voice just recently. So we communicate using sign language. He called it ‘talking with fingers’.

My brother said that there were some sounds which don't require ears to listen. You can hear them through your skin. Like the sound of heartbeat, the sound of rain falling, the sound of breathing.

He always said that he wasn’t hurting because of his disability, but he lied. To me and to himself as well. Deep inside, he was hurting. I only realized it after he left.

“What is it?” I asked using my fingers. Inside, I thought, your existence is the best thing that ever happened to me. I don't need any more gifts.

He took the gift out of his pocket. It was a diary with blue cover.

“A diary? But you know I don't write diary.”

“I know. But I think you should start writing. I know there are a lot of things going on with you and the thoughts burden you so often. Since I am not always with you, use this instead to unburden yourself. Treat it like your best friend.”

“Thanks, brother. I love you,” I pulled him in a hug. He lowered his head and kissed me.

As I didn't have the habit of writing, I didn't write anything in it for a whole year. I just hugged it from time to time whenever I missed my brother, and inhaled the scent of the pages.

But then, a shocking incident turned my life upside down.

I lost my brother.

I lost the only person in the world who loved me. I was in a trauma.

My parents, of course, were indifferent to me as ever. I cried over him, I couldn’t sleep at nights. And I didn’t have a single person to share my pains.

That is when I turned to the diary.

I opened it at the middle of a sleepless night. I remembered my brother. ‘Blue’, I remembered that is what he called me. So I started writing.

“Dear Blue,” I started, but my eyes were full of tears. I buried my face in the diary and burst into tears. The pages soaked wet with tears. I couldn’t bring myself to write. It was so hard to pen them down.

Days passed, and the pain subsided. On another sleepless night, I attempted to write again. And this time, I could write a few lines before breaking down.

As time passed by, I became comfortable with writing. I could express myself more and more. And I realized why my brother gave me that. A diary is really a best friend to an introvert. It will listen to you without talking back. It will take all your pains in without complaining. It will keep all your secrets buried in the chest.

It was better than humans.

And it did help me unburdening the thoughts inside me, just like my brother said. It worked like a therapy.

And that is how it became my best friend.