If I tell you that I miss you, will you also miss me back?
I tend to hold my feelings a lot, especially when I am upset. I tend not to talk to the person who made me feel that way. I just take my time and think about the situation. I don’t want other people to feel the same way that I do - and I think that is the reason why I always tell them I am fine even though I am not.
Sometimes, I avoid a lot of people because they confuse my feelings. They tell me that they like me and they act a certain way; and what they are acting is not really how they feel.
Today has been another struggle for the both of us and my mind is pretty much full of thoughts about you and how to make you feel okay again.
I am weird and too spontaneous; and I always seem to be that person who displays affection even if there are too many people. You can never really blame me for being like this; but it’s not your fault, too. Actually, what you said to me today got me thinking. Do I still want you in my life?
Thing is, I have no idea why we are both keeping up with this. It just seems that we are both comfortable having each other and we never really minded what other people say about us. We got too comfortable and I started to feel something different. I expected too much.
You never did promise me anything, not even a solid relationship - and I respect that. I don’t want to rush you or worse, change you. Because I know who you really are. I know you, all too well.
One thing is for sure, though - that I know for a fact that no matter how this thing ends between us - I’ll never be alone anymore.
There will come a time when I will stop writing. I will stop writing about you and how we used to be. I will stop writing about myself and how I feel. I would run out of words to say and my thoughts I can no longer gather. It will be all about goodbyes.
We share the love that people get envious of. That special kind of love where you don’t worry about a thing - but only the thought of loving each other. We both know that we love each other even if we are both quiet and reserved. You always drive me by with a whirlwind of emotions, just like the rain; and I write you thousands of words that I cannot compress to letters - but you seem to understand. You complete me like there is a missing piece. I will never let you go.
I think you could fall in love with someone easily if you get to see the parts of them that other people don’t get to see.
If there was one thing that makes me all curious and jumping with mere fervor, I’d tell it’s the diary of a young man, for in between pages, and in between poured out inks from that little notebook, I’ve seen a side of the beau and of his diary that no one really dared to see.
It isn’t just a diary.
It is a journal, a log, a photo book, and everything else that would remind you of a beautiful summer day spent in the beach or of a cold winter night spent in the living room, helping yourself get warmed by the heat the bed of coals gives. It is a little children’s book with many different episodes and many different illustrations that would help you imagine about the story that was narrated.
Sometimes I compare it to the book, “Perks of Being a Wallflower” just because the beau looks a lot like Charlie, that wallflower who did not spent his days trying to make himself look sad, or dramatic. Sometimes when I flip the pages, I can see some scribbled notes written formally, yet apparently written hurriedly. Some were written for someone important, while most of it, most of the letters were written for someone very special.
When I look at his photographs, I can’t help but be enviously amazed with the way he takes snapshots of things. He takes photos sometimes vividly, sometimes candidly, and at all times beautifully. I’m even dreaming of having a photo walk with him if he would gladly accord to my invitation. But his photographs are sometimes sad, and they instantly put back my heart into a nostalgic mode, ready to burst out tears again by viewing back my the past albums of my life. But sometimes, too, his photographs bring nothing but happiness (especially his self-portraits) for when you look at the smiles of the people he’s taken a shot of, it would feel as if you would be looking at the most beautiful scenery, you would be reading the most beautiful words, and you would be hearing the most beautiful whispers.
It’d be hard not to fall in love with the man who owns the diary. And with that, I’ve read the best diary I’ve ever come across to.
Thank you for this, Dayn. I love youuuu! :)