What do we wish to find when we get the chance to read someones Diary?

What we usually or might get is an account of  Exquisite sources of suffering, sexual adventures in disloyalty, distortions of truth all tellingly told

so as the Diarist emerges as a MARTYR

There are certain modes of writing (say a Diary) who do not need truth far better to replace with a disquieting abundance of imagination

written so endearingly as if they were on the knees

of their heart.