entry eighteen

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dear diary—

i never knew love could hurt so much.

if love is what it is, anyway.

all i know is that watching corbyn walk with jack down the hall, hold jack's hand, let jack touch him intimately, kiss jack....hurts.

it makes my chest ache.

i wish i were in jack's place.

i'm kind of scared. i've never felt feelings this strongly toward someone before.

and how do i expect this to end up, anyway?

corbyn besson would never love daniel seavey.

not when there's jack avery and a hundred of others guys at school—heck, a billion other guys in the world—that he could have over me.

i'm so ugly.

i know that people always say that looks don't matter, and that it's what's inside that counts, but it's hard to believe in a world that bases everything on how you look.

i'm tall and skinny, but i'm not comfortable with my height and build like other guys. as a result, i'm awkward and clumsy, gangly to a fault.

i have a big nose, small mouth, thick lips, and a weird gap right in between my two front teeth. it makes me look like a two year old when i grin, so i rarely do so.

my only extraordinary quality is my eyes. they're a bright blue, brighter and bluer than any eyes she's ever seen, my grandmother says.

but what's the use of having pretty eyes if no one will ever take the time to get close enough to look into them?

—daniel

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