Tomorrow I see her again. I feel nervous. I have read three of the magazines she gave me. The New Yorker. I think that there might be a question in those pages. In two of them the articles dealing with rape have been read more than the others. I think she might be able to guess that I was... I don't know. Maybe she is saying that she was? I'm so confused. A friend of mine told me that I should talk to her. I will. Not about my love for her but about the magazines. Were they a confession? A question? A honest mistake? I don't know. I'm scared. I don't want to sound paranoid. She cried on one of them. I saw the marks. Where the water soaked in to the page. I hope that she meant something by them. If not I will look paranoid. Fuck me I'm sick of living like this! The uncertainty, the worry. Is this the price I pay to be in love? If so then this is a shit deal. I love her and I can't tell her but I have to deal with the pains of love! I told her about a play reading that I saw online. It was about the one-ness of love. I hope she watched it. It shows my feelings for her. I hope she understood what I was trying to say. I hope she feels the same. I'm done living like this. This Friday is all cards on the table. I'm going to be an open book. I'm going to find out if she loves me.
YOU ARE READING
Whomever
RomanceI've been hopelessly in love with Suzanne. I've started crushing on Red. What's going to happen? No clue. This is all true. My life, my love. No lies here. This is my journal.
