Lost and not found

 I've lost a couple of things in the past couple of months.

Things that are not just things but quite symbolic in my life.

I lost my ring in June this year. It was a silver ring I bought when I perhaps seventeen or eighteen. A ring that I intended to be meant to be worn on my finger that was not my ring finger. I wore it on my right thumb or forefinger. That ring was my expression of my "not-so-goody-two-shoes-girl" in me during my teens. I wore it again this year to mark my self rediscovery, feeling seventeen again. But as fate has spoken clearly about that phase in my life, it was stopped abruptly. I have not found my ring still and I don't think I'll ever find it again since I don't even know where I lost it exactly, it just disappeared from my finger at the end of a busy day in the park. So perhaps I'm not supposed to feel seventeen again...maybe it was too far back, maybe I should aim for just twenty five instead?

I lost the key to my diary in July this year. This time I am certain where I lost it, at a hotel in Iceland. I did try my luck, emailed the hotel about it but sadly, no reply. It wasn't a special key. The lock it opens  is quite generic, one that can be easily picked. I also have a key from a new diary I bought which use identical keys. But I have not dared still to open my old diary. That's why here I have been writing in this blog instead. I am still pondering if fate wanted me to stop writing my deepest thoughts down because it messes my mind. But I thought journaling is supposed to help ease anxiety down? In my case though, I may have been too imaginative and got carried away with my creative story writing mind? Is it really fate my reason for not opening my diary again or I am just afraid to see again how ridiculous I had been this year?

As always, I will need a sign. I just hope that this time, I will interpret the sign objectively, and not as how I want it to be...