Amelia | ✔

58. The world is a messy place.

Dear Diary,

This is a new thing. You are a new thing. I never wrote my thoughts in a diary before. I never had to, but Arpanet told me apparently, it's a good thing. It helps relieve stress. So here we are.

If you are thinking I had you tucked somewhere in my cabin and waited until it was too much going on in my head to use you, you are wrong. I have a number of copy books, but I only used them for school. I had to borrow you from mom and by the looks of it, you might just become my best friend since you will know most of my problems.

Who knows? Maybe one day I'll look back to you, my handwriting, my thoughts, and be able to laugh about it.

Anyway, here's what I wanted to tell you.

I'm in love.

With a crazy person.

No joke.

Okay, maybe I am exaggerating a little bit. He's not crazy as in 'He should see a doctor and maybe be admitted to a mental facility, and that would be really good for him' kinda crazy. What I mean is, I think he's crazy. At least a little bit.

I never seem to understand him. I never seem to be able to get through his thick skull. One minute we are okay, the second, we are shouting at each other.

He took me for our first date tonight. It ended disastrously. He took me home and that was three hours ago. Since then, I haven't heard from him. We didn't end the night in good terms, but still, it hurts that he didn't check up on me, or I didn't check up on him. Maybe we are both idiots. To be honest, I'm worried.

I love him.

I never loved anybody before, but I love him.

I can feel something is horribly wrong, but he won't let me help. I want to help, but at the same time, I am so mad at him I wanna kick him where it hurts the most.

Bottom line is, I don't know what to do. I wish you could speak. I wish writing this was some kind of miracle and relieve my stress straight away. Apparently, it doesn't work like that. I still feel the same.

Yours,

Amelia.

I read and re-read my diary entry and instead of it taking the heaviness in my chest, it just caused me to fall deeper and deeper into the pain abyss.

None of what I wrote was supposed to be by someone who is supposedly in love.

I took a deep breath and threw myself back onto the bed and I found myself thinking back to when he and I actually met.

Tall, handsome, stubborn, green eyes that gave him away as the person who punched me, unknowingly starting a chain of events that set us up to be together. Me, falling in love. Hard. Him, did he love me? 'Well, I'm glad you clarified that because I think I...'

"Holy shit!"

I abruptly sat up.

"Holy-Shit. Was he going to tell me he loved me?"

Curse that stupid detective for interrupting what he was about to say since because of him, I had no way of knowing for sure what Logan wanted to say and the way things changed, I wasn't sure I was going to find out anytime soon.

Slowly, I took a deep breath and laid back down on my bed. Even if that was the case, I didn't think it would help our situation anyway.

So, let me tell you what happened when I stormed inside the house, my four-inch heels clinking and clanking as if I was ready to break the floor surface and a tad bit way too early than mom thought. The look on her face was priceless.