It's not someone real diary its just a first narrative story.Thanks for reading .Something PureI am writing this because silence has become too loud.At this age, when the body grows tired but the mind refuses to rest, memories begin to line up like unanswered letters. They wait. They demand to be opened.People call these years a gift.I agree.But gifts also come with truth, and truth is not always gentle.I sit for hours thinking about my past.About the things I did.About the things I believed were right.And about the strange realization that comes at the end — that life was not