Dear journal,
I found something interesting today. A met a wonderful, beautiful, talented little thing named May. She's as short and sweet as the month she's named after. She's everything the Haus of Lyon needs but I don't know how to get her on my...
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Dear journal,
Things have been tense.
I've spent the past few days giving May the space she clearly needed. The tension from our last encounter still hangs over me, a constant reminder of my misstep. I've buried myself in work, trying to channel my energy into finalizing designs, but even that feels strained.
Today, one of my colleagues from the Haus of Lyon, Carla, noticed my stress and insisted I take a break. She is an angel sent from above to keep me from throwing myself off the building. If anyone deserved my grace, it was her. The stalwart woman of 34 was a mother of three rambunctious children and enjoyed mothering me.
I don't have the heart to stop her.
She suggested a blind date, something to distract me and maybe even inspire a new perspective. I was hesitant at first, knowing how much work awaited me, but she was persistent. She set everything up, and before I knew it, I was agreeing.
Tonight, I met Victoria.
You know what they say...hindsight is 20/20.
On paper, she was everything one could ask for: intelligent, beautiful, accomplished, and with a genuine interest in fashion. We met at a chic little restaurant downtown. She was warm and engaging, and the conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about our careers, favorite designers, and travel experiences. She even shared some insightful thoughts on my recent collection ideas.
She even liked the same wine as me.
But as the evening wore on, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Victoria was perfect in many ways, but there was an intangible quality she lacked.
Once again, despite the many attempts to reign in my thoughts, I kept drifting back to May—and I couldn't stand it.
I imagined May in front of me, her soft green eyes staring at me with warmth and her hand holding mine.
Why her? I don't know. I'm trying to figure it out.
When Victoria suggested we continue the night at her apartment, I hesitated. She was offering companionship, a chance to escape the stress that had been weighing me down. But the idea felt hollow. I realized that no matter how perfect Victoria seemed, she wasn't May. The connection I felt with May, despite our complicated history, was something deeper, something that couldn't be replicated.
I politely declined Victoria's offer, thanking her for the evening and parting on good terms. As I walked home, the city lights reflecting off the pavement, I felt a strange mix of relief and frustration. The date had been a welcome distraction, but it also highlighted how much May had come to mean to me.
This realization gnawed at me. I had tried to move on, to find solace in someone else, but I can't.
Emily left a gaping hole and May was closing it inch by inch. Her absence was like a shadow, a constant reminder of what I was missing.
I sat down with my sketches tonight, hoping to lose myself in work. But my thoughts kept returning to May—her laugh, her fire, the way she inspired me to be better. I know I need to respect her space, but part of me longs to reach out, to find a way to make things right.
I'm going crazy.
What's wrong with me?
I'm hoping that clarity will come with time, but I doubt it.
I'm developing an obsession, a positively unhealthy one. May is supposed to be a tool so why is she haunting my thoughts? Why is she in every sketch, every line, every drop of ink that comes from my pen?
This isn't love. I refuse it.
This is revenge, pure and simple.
Much to do,
- Alexander
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