In This Heart: 1934

Chapter 5: Rainy Season

June 15, 1934

Dear Diary,

It's been so long, and I should've been writing him this letter, but I don't think it would do us good. So here I am, writing you the words that I wished I could tell him instead.

Anton and I had been seeing each other lately, and I wanted to delve straight to the point. I think I am slowly falling in love with my childhood best friend. I always find ways to see him, even if that would mean I need to live with my parents. I want to make sure we keep in touch so instead of writing him long, dull letters, I'll get to see and talk to him about my day.

I get so excited with the thought of us walking around the city and to have found someone who would gather me up again and make every weekend purposeful after all this time.

I know that my affections for him are scattered everywhere for him to see, unless he's that blind not to notice. For sure, he knows, but I don't think he's capable of reciprocating. In fact, I get so confused with his gestures.

He would wait for me outside the movie theater even when it's raining, adding delays to my arrival. He'll refuse to go inside because he's afraid he'll be having a hard time searching for me. He would sometimes hold my hand when we're in the middle of the crowd, always putting me on the safe side of the road. There was one moment when he gave me a bouquet of flowers and when I asked him why, he had no reason to give. I also remember the fifth time we went to the circus.

He was towering over me with his height, making me feel nervous and small. But I could feel the beating of his heart. I could feel his breath close to me. It was the night of the fireworks display, and he's standing at my back, so near yet so far. I wanted to kiss him, but I am afraid that with one wrong move, I'll lose him again, and I would be too embarrassed to show up.

So, I need to staple my words. I need to set aside my confession. I can't assume there's more to us because it would only lead to disappointments. I can't lose Anton once again. Not this time. Not ever.

Worried,

Juanita