meant to be yours | d.w

23

"I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am"

Dear journal,

My favorite poem has now changed. To tell you now would be like opening Christmas presents on December 12th. So I'll just have to leave you on the edge of your seat, regardless if you care or not.

You probably are confused why I cut you off then and there. Well, I have a perfectly logical reason for that. There are more important matters on my hands, these matters having to do with tragic memories.

As you read these words, I am currently sitting on my bed, avoiding any sort of human contact. God that sounded cliche, anti social, anything that describes a person who doesn't have a life. But then again, when am I not over analyzing everything?

My pen is almost out of ink, I can feel it, and I can see it as the ink runs dry with every period. Well, now is the time where I pour out my heart and soul. The time where I tell you how my heart is filled with butterflies from that night. The night that took place precisely a week ago. Not that I'm keeping track or anything.

Since then, me and Dallas have avoided each other like one does with burdening responsibilities.

I would prefer to say it wasn't on purpose, but that would be lying. I'm not an intentional liar, at least I don't try to be. Ha! I'm only kidding, I think if I tried the path of manipulation, I just might cry. I would like to think I could pass the test at ease, but that's irrelevant and untrue.

In my eyes, lying is a necessary part of life. We all do it. And those who disagree are the biggest liars themselves. For they are lying right as their defensive arguments pass through their mouths. However, lying is only needed in moments of struggle. Lying for your own personal benefit, knowing that the world will crumble as you fail to tell the truth, it's honestly evil.

He lies. I know he does. Dallas does everything. He lies, he steals, he cheats. I don't know why I'm suddenly starting to become so aware of the terrible things he does. I've always known it, but now it all feels so real. And oddly enough, out of place.

I now am in this odd in between where I want him to like me more than ever, but at the same time never hearing from him sounds like a delight. Deciding which of these options to pick is grueling. But I'm determined to do whatever it takes to achieve that goal, I know I am. I'm only joking, am I really that bold? I was that night where everything felt magical in a depressing sense. But that was a one night scenario for a reason.

The main question that's been on my mind would irrevocably have to be if I want him to like me to be rid of the rivalry? Or do I want him to be fond of me so that I won't have to face these conflicting feelings anymore? But do I even care for his opinion at all? There's too many points of conflicting events I have to face. Too many for my liking.

As of right now, ignoring him has been the first step in attempting to recognize how I feel. And keeping up with the petty remarks seems to be the best way to defy these difficult emotions I know I must face.

Nothing happened that night, at least that's the story I keep repeating to myself.

"Care to tell me what you're doing up so early?" A familiar voice rang from the doorway.

I wish you all the best, Rebecca.

Setting aside the diary, I looked up to see Kristy, drinking her usual coffee. It was steaming at the top, and it was easy to tell that it was too hot. But she handled the heat with ease, allowing the hot coffee to pour down her throat. I don't know how she does it, drinking whatever that is without cream and sugar.