Dear Diary

3 0 0

by _TheSameMistakes_

by _TheSameMistakes_

I had to write a satire for English recently and I thought I was pretty good so I decided to post it.

April 21, 2012

Dear Diary,

Tears are a sign of love. Obviously the more tears I shed, the more I know how much I love him! He's never cried like I have, but I already know how much he loves me so he doesn't have to. This Saturday marks our 3 year anniversary, and I couldn't be more excited! Sure, we've hit a few rough patches in our relationship, but our love still prevails and to this day I still remember how he asked me out. We were in the 10th grade, and he had just broken up with his previous girlfriend. We had already been pretty close friends so I got the inside scoop on how everything went downhill. He was so distraught about losing her. As I was consoling him I looked into those milk chocolatey eyes of his and couldn't help but get lost in those swampy brown orbs. Then before I realized it, we had started leaning in! I could feel the sparks already, and then...we kissed! I could already hear wedding bells! Once he felt better, we parted ways blushing like little kids. During sixth period, he slipped me a note, "Hey, thanks for earlier. I really needed that, and now it's my turn to treat you. Ice cream after school?" Of course I went, and it was there he asked me to be his girlfriend!

After that day, everything fell into place. He walked me to all my classes, carried my books, helped with homework, and proudly paraded me as his girlfriend. When we settled into our relationship, I realized he had the slight tendency to get jealous, but don't all boyfriends? I mean, I'd get mad too if I saw my girlfriend talking to other guys. But, as we progressed in our relationship, it seemed like I couldn't talk to any guys, period. The guys that I talked to before he and I got together withered away because they were scared of him. I don't understand why though, he'd never lay a hand on me. Except that one time he caught me talking to my brother. He didn't know I had an older brother, so when I attempted to explain that to him it didn't go over so well: "You fucking slut! How long have you been cheating on me!? You know you belong to me! Instead you're whoring around and throwing yourself at anyone you meet!" In the hype of his screaming fit, he raised his hand and with full force, struck me across the face. The sting of the slap travelled across my face, and hot tears rolled down as I was in shock. Immediately, he began to apologize: "Baby I'm so sorry! Don't cry! You know I love you. I just thought you were cheating, and I don't want to lose you. You mean so much to me, but you made me really mad. Please forgive me, and don't do it again." Of course I forgave him because I knew he didn't mean to hit me.

About a year into our relationship, it seemed like I couldn't do anything right to please him. We were constantly fighting, and I ran out of concealer practically every other week, covering the numerous bruises and cuts scattered across my body. However, I knew I deserved it. I shouldn't have waited so long to call and text him back or I should have told him I was out with my girlfriends that way he wouldn't assume I'm cheating on him. I completely understand why he did it, he was showing me how much he loved me and didn't want anyone taking me away from him.

I was his and he was mine, but there was a period where he wasn't around a lot. I thought he was avoiding me because he constantly made excuses not to see me: "I'm hanging out with friends" or "playing video games" and even "I have tons of homework, I'll text you later." Always a short conversation and it seemed like he was rushing me off the phone. When I did see him, he smelled like perfume and had lipstick residue on his lips and cheeks. I thought he was cheating on me, but he wouldn't do that because we were exclusive and he always told me how much he loved me. In a committed and healthy relationship like ours, why is there the need to cheat? I knew I was crazy for even assuming he would. He's engrained in me that I belong to him: That no one could love me like he can. Every bloodied and busted lip, black eye swollen shut, and handprint left on my body expresses his love for me and the eternal tears I shed, for him. This is what love is supposed to be like. This is fine. I am fine. I love him.