Sat, Nov 8th I always have been interested in writing since I was a little kid, and I enjoy writing until now. Describing some sceneries and someone's heart which is filled with various emotions just by a pen is the best way to be a magician who can create his own world, I think. I have so many works in my notebooks, although I've never tried to make them to be seen by someone else. Frankly speaking, I had pride in them. Today I read my friend's writing. At first, I was like 'It's nice, but still I think I'm far better than her.'. I agree I was really arrogant. After reading all sentences of her writing, i felt something that exists inside of my mind collapsing miserably. She wanted me to feed her writing back to her, but I refused to do that. Saying my opinion about the work of her is similar with touching a bomb that can crush my pride so badly. That realistic description. It's unfair one can be that good, and that's not me. I've tried hard to make my writing skills improved. Maybe harder than her. Suddenly I became miserable, just by seeing her notebook. Yes, that was just a notebook. I'm dizzy. I think I should open my notebook and write something. Still that can be a trash comparing to hers, but at least i gotta try, i know. (I decided to write my diary in English, but i guess this decision was not that smart. Writing in English is much harder to organize my feelings. I know practice is the only way to get better. thank you for reading this mess writing, and if you don't mind, i hope you to correct my diary. have a nice day!)