A book may not mean a lot. At the end, it's just a bunch of papers.
Yet one day you open it,
Not to write notes,
Not to write a reminder,
But to write your feelings - the raw ones, the unprocessed version.
That day the book becomes more than just a bunch of papers - a friend, a bestie, the one who listened while your world fell apart.
Indeed Anne Frank was right.
"Paper has more patience than people"