My Wordless Diary

In an uncertain world, I often find myself thinking about how things “used to be,” whether that means pre-covid or what life was like when I was in sixth grade. I constantly find myself indulged in my iPhone’s camera roll for hours, reminiscing on the joys of summer 2019 or scrolling through crammed family photos from past holidays. 


I take photos of everything. Seriously. Everything. From brick walls to vintage cars to street signs. Even the produce section at my small town’s grocery store has a certain photographic charm that not everyone can comprehend. Let me explain why each and every one of the 48,000 pictures on my phone mean so much to me (and it’s not because I have an underwhelming fear of the delete button.) 


I am an incredibly nostalgic person. Not only that, my biggest anxiety is that time is slipping away too fast, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I read a quote that went something like, “if you want to know what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph.” Yes, I have thousands of photos of my friends and family because, like the quote says, I fear losing them. So why do I also have thousands of photos of interesting-looking city buildings or my sunday morning breakfast? How can I be afraid of losing something so seemingly insignificant? 


What I was actually afraid of was losing the memories attached to those city building photos, since they were a reminder of the time my best friends and I navigated a 60,000 person concert in New York City. Similarly, looking at that typical photo of my pancakes brings me back to family summer vacations in New Hampshire. 


I have always loved to write. However, it’s not always convenient to pull out a notebook and pen every time something memorable happens. So I found another way to document these moments. But not just the posed, picture-perfect moments where everyone is smiling at the camera. It’s more personal than that. My camera roll has become my very own diary. A wordless diary, if you will, where every picture and video holds so much more than what the eye can see.