I have kept a diary since I first learned how to write coherent sentences. My Tinker Bell diary harbors pages worth of hearts surrounding Gabby and the names of old crushes, along with stories about playground drama. My high school diary is brown leather. The leather strap tying it shut is almost worn through now, guarding my biggest insecurities, worries and dreams.

They are all kept in a box I try my best to forget about. They are not to be opened because opening an old diary is like inviting an old friend to come over to your house, but this friend eats your peanut butter straight out of the jar, talks about their ex nonstop and won’t let you forget that time you cried during Hotel for Dogs.

“The Cut” by Grace Enger is a page out of a diary. 

“You don’t have to say it, I know the words /

So right before you tell me, just tell the floor /

But I watch you as your mouth is opening, feel it coming /

Roll it in slo-mo /

I don’t need you to make the cut /

‘Cause I know we’re breaking up.”

Enger’s lyrics turn feelings into words. Eloquently, she captures what it feels like to be in a relationship destined to fail. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could go back to the moment right before something you cherished was taken away? Before a breakup? Before betraying a friend’s trust? Before losing a loved one? 

For something you cherished so much, you would go through the pain of opening up the old diaries. You would try to turn back time to when you couldn’t sense the end, reliving the moments when you felt this relationship would last forever. 

“I try to call /

Think two months would make a difference /

You hope that we can be friends, and I’m fine /

As if I’m not mourning every old text message /

Tryna find the precise point you changed your mind.”

But, you’re confronted with the reality that reliving these moments won’t turn back time. It’s gone. You have to press play on the scene where that light is snuffed out, where your world turns gray. You have to move on. 

“So go ahead and make the cut /

Cause the sooner that you break my heart /

The sooner I’ll get over us.”

Listening to “The Cut” is like flipping through those pages sealed in brown leather. Crying, screaming and laughing, you open to a blank page and keep writing.