Dear Diary,











May 29, 2011
It hurts so bad. It hurts so incredibly bad to be in love with a jerk like him. My best friend. I know I’m special to him. I have to be. The way he looks at me. Different than the rest of the girls in my class. At first I thought I was just making it all up in my mind, but now I know for sure that I mean a lot to him. I mean he tells me things, things I know he’s never told any of the other girls. Things that were secrets, and I know were hard for him to say. But we can also just hang out and laugh forever. He can make me give the biggest smile of my life with just one look, without even trying. I can feel myself blushing deep down inside and I hate myself for it, but I still can’t stop no matter how hard I try. He talks about how cute and adorable my dimples are. He called them craters. Craters! Now every time I see them in my own face I have to think of him and I just smile even more. So day by day, and little by little, I began to fall uncontrollably and unwillingly in love with my best friend, and I hate it. I hate love and all that it does because I’ve seen it turn dozens of girls’ brains into mush. The thought of girls with puppy dog eyes and heads filled with romantic fictional fairytales makes me sick to my stomach. I’ve seen it turn rational intelligent women into complete fools, enslaved by the power of love. I hate love because it is a horrible feeling and it takes away your ability to make sane decisions a make clear thoughts. And not only do I hate the fact that I fell in love, but I hate the fact that I fell in love with him. I hate the fact that my first love is a really bad movie cliché. The teenage girl falls desperately in love with her best friend, but he never has a clue. She values their friendship too much to tell him and risk messing it up, so she stays stuck, in her miserable love filled problem. How many times have we seen this story over and over again. The thing I hate the most about this whole situation is that he hurts me, and I except. The first time he didn’t talk to me for two whole weeks, and I swore to myself that I wouldn’t talk to him ever again unless he told me why he was mad at me. And then just like that, the bomb came. KABLOOM!! The moment he said hi to me all the resistance I had built over the last 2 weeks with my anger and hate had been blown to piece. I remember my heart being hard as ice and then instantly melting at the sound of his voice. I felt like crap for giving up so easy but I figured what was the point in wasting precious time being mad at him when I could just be happy. At least that’s how I decided to justify being so weak. And so it happened, over and over again. We would be the best of friends one day, and the next, he wouldn’t even look at. Every single time I forgave him, saying if he ever did it again we would no longer be friends. And every single time I knew I was lying to myself and I hated myself for forgiving him so quickly. I would always be there for him know matter what he did to me and he knew it too, but it wasn’t my fault. I was addicted. I was addicted to his smile and his corny jokes and his little ears, and every intimate moment we spent together. I missed him every second we were apart. I loved him, and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t stop. So if his on and off cruelty is the price for me loving him, I guess I have no choice but to pay up.