May be, I got what I had deserved.
Dear Diary, Perhaps, I’m writing my final words in here in your warm pages which I’ve been so much acquainted with for years. Dearest Diary, I know we simply can’t control things but at the very least, I think we could make some influences over them and exploit them to our advantages. What you think? But, alas! I neither could influence them nor exploit, I even couldn’t hold sway over my own acts (like my love for her). I let things go worse and past me day by day in front of my own very eyes and I’ve been just a piteous spectator of my own doom.