Happy.

Over half of my life has been documented here.

My first Open Diary entry was written before my first kiss. When Reef alcopops were all the rage. When it was uncool to wear glasses. When the Millennium Bug was still a thing. I’ve had a number of different names and a number of different URLs, but each diary was mine. Each told a story. Some of them were horribly melodramatic, some of them fun and lighthearted… but all of them honest. I’ve shown a lot of faces here and changed my stripes tens of times, but ‘Capulet’ has served me best. Had it not been for Capulet, I’d never have found you.

Or me.

I can’t describe through words alone the magnitude of AWESOME that Open Diary has given me. I’d have to dance with wizards on rainbows to get my point across.
Pleasure. Therapy. Friendship. Laughter. Inspiration. Love. ♥

Had it not been for this website, I’d never have experienced the catharsis and expression that can be gained through writing. Through writing for a community like this one, especially. I’d never have discovered my passion for words or learned that I might have a flair for making them dance with each other. And had it not been for that, I certainly wouldn’t be working towards a degree in Creative Writing right now, but I am. It’s how I spend my days. I’m a student with a rucksack, with new-found purpose and confidence and self-worth. And ultimately, that’s Open Diary’s fault. It’s the best decision I’ve ever made. Thank you, Open Diary.

Had it not been for this website, I’d never have survived my illness. It’s a weighted statement, I know, but I don’t doubt it. Depression and Mental Illness are cruel bullies who waste people’s joy, and end lives, and writing my way around them helped immeasurably. I couldn’t tell you how much, it’s impossible. But putting your woes from pen to paper helped you, too; the support and sentiments of the people who read them were invaluable to you, too, so I know you understand me. We got through it together, here on this sinking ship. If it were physically possible, I would give Open Diary a big fat hug for that alone. Thank you, Open Diary.

Had it not been for this website, I’d never have been inspired or touched or enraged by the stories of strangers. Invaluable stories that teach lessons and help us grow as people. I found some corkers here, truly. Some beautiful spirits. Some slightly hideous ones. But the former far, far outweighed the latter. Open Diary has left me both howling with laughter and sniffling with tears, sometimes simultaneously, on more occasions than I could possibly count. I have taken so much from the lives of so many, some who never even knew I was there, and that’s priceless. We experience adventures through other people and we learn from their tales, and I have learned so much. Thank you, strangers. Thank you, Open Diary.

Had it not been for this website, I’d never have forged friendships with people all over the world who I almost certainly wouldn’t have had the pleasure to meet ordinarily. I have become friends with some who live on the other side of the planet, and some who live literally just around the corner. That’s the magic of the Internet, isn’t it. It can take you anywhere. And sometimes the closest places are the most beautiful. It would be impossible to list the people I met here, who I have learned from and loved. Some have become true friends – I count them among my best – and have found a place in my heart, where they will hopefully remain forever; others have been distant and some have been fleeting, but no less cherished. One became the live-in love of my life for a time that I’ve often wished had been longer.
All have been precious.
Thank you, Open Diary.

Thank you, friends.      

It’s been a year since I last wrote here. It feels strange coming back to open this oh-so-familiar screen – this strangely reassuring, comforting, blank old screen – knowing it’ll be the last time I ever do. But it’s the last time I ever will. Our ship is on its way down and that’s sad! For some of us more than others, I’m sure. I imagine for many it means very little. For myself and countless others I know, it’s a poignant and somehow quite painful loss. For some, it must surely be devastating. Stories of births and deaths and marriages have all been recorded here, and they’ll all be gone. I’m sorry for those people the most.

But for me? I will move on with only happy memories. I don’t know at this stage if I’ll ever move to one of these other sites we’ve all heard about – in all honesty, I can barely find the time at the moment to write the writing that I hope will take me places – but I won’t say ‘never’. I have loved this place too much to say ‘never’ to the home that will undoubtedly replace it.

I ask that if you knew me, if you were ever too shy to say hello, and if you find yourself inclined to do so… please stay in touch. I’m on Facebook – my name is Kate Spalding. I’m the one with the bright orange hair, grinning like an idiot. I have email – my address is dearkate@hotmail.com. I check it daily but I’m awful at writing back, so Facebook is better.
I don’t have Twitter. I talk too much for Twitter. (You know that.) 

Oh, you.

As I leave here for the last time, I want you to know that I’m happy.
It would be so easy to take advantage of Open Diary’s demise and leave platitudes – I could write a number of clichés, or make up stories to end this diary beautifully, simply because I feel it ought to be left that way – but I’d like it to be noted without a hint of irony o

r dishonesty, and with my hand on my heart… that I am happy.
I want you to know that I am happier than any of the happies I have ever recorded here. Happier than I have been since long before those days of Reef alcopops and hideous glasses and nightmares about planes crashing from the sky. Far happier. So thank you, Open Diary, for bringing me here. For being such an integral part of the journey, and for giving me the friends who stood by me through it all.

I am happy.
I wish the same for each and every one of you.

‘Never part without loving words to think of during your absence.
It may be that you will not meet again in this life.’
~ Jean Paul Richter