The Journal of A Criminal.

August 5th, 1997

It was the night I fell in love with her. It was the night, I decided to fall for somebody. She was worth whatever heartbreak that might come later. But I wanted to live in the now, treasure those moments I had with her. She was wearing a black dress. It seemed sinister, but she was beautiful. She sat down at the end of the dock, her legs were pressed up to her chest.
We told each other we would meet together there. It's where we first met. From a distance she looked like a shadow. A shadow against the moonlight, at that distance she seemed happy. I felt my heart stagger as I walked up to her. I sat beside her, and she was shuddering. I quickly embraced her, she held me back. But it was different then before, it was a clingy embrace.
Like she was afraid to let me go. I held her back, as much as she held me, but she just held tighter and tighter, and I didn't want to turn it into a competition. But at that moment I realized she loved me more, than I could ever love her. Her makeup ran down her flawless face, and I could feel her tears staining my expensive shirt I bought for just that occasion.
I didn't ask her what was wrong, because she would've told me if it was something I should've been worried for. She told me not to ask questions, so I didn't. But I loved her. I loved her then. And everyday I fell in love with her again. Seeing her face was like oxygen to me. I couldn't live without her.