All right, my man. Hear me out. You are my diary. You might not like me, but you’re going to learn to like me, because this is all you get.

…Man, I feel a bit guilty now, sorry, diary. But seriously though, I need to learn to write better, and improve my handwriting so I can get all of the sweet bragging rights and send swoon-worthy letters to Alex, soooooooooo here we are. Just you and me, me and you.

Yeahhhhhhhhhh.

Anyway.

Aren’t you happy you got me as your owner and not some world renowned author?

(Man, I’m sorry, diary, I promise I’ll try my best.)

Let’s see… here’s the deal: I missed my flight. That’s also kind of way I’m writing here, because if I get dumped for being late, at least I have some place to cry to.

I don’t know if I should send Alex a message, or if he’ll reply. He’s probably asleep by now. Mark is probably getting pegged hard, so my only option is you, this friendly sheet of paper!

Or a nap.

Except there’s a baby crying right next to me, and now he just threw up, and snatched whatever want I might’ve had to sleep from me.

Good God that reeks…

Okay, his mum took him somewhere else, I kind of hope it was on a plane ride to a country far from here and my seat in this waiting room.

And okay… I feel like I’m just wasting ink at this point, so I’m probably gonna stop, but here’s to my adventures with Alex (if he doesn’t leave me after this flight thing), and getting spanked (probably, hopefully).

Cheerio!

***

Dearest friend,

I didn’t think we’d be seeing each other so soon, however… I felt the need to check-in.

I’m at the airport. It’s two in the morning. David is late, he should have been here almost four hours ago. I tried calling, and texting, but it seems his phone is either turned off or has no signal.

Perhaps I should be mad, yet, the first thing I did was check the news and hope with all my might that nothing bad happened to him.

When I saw that it was all right, and that—at least, for now—no announcement has been made, relief flooded my chest. I went to speak with the staff. I was told there was another flight, and that it should be here once morning comes around. I thanked them, and left with a burn in my stomach that would not go away, as they said I was welcome and called me ma’am.

Since then, I suppose I’ve eaten a few donuts and drank some coffee. It kind of makes me laugh, that I’m eating like a stereotypical cop, and that laughter makes up for my yearn to cry. I’ve been working on some sketches for projects whose deadlines are further away than the universe. And I’ve been wondering, too, if I’ll ever see David’s face again.

Maybe he was just here for the novelty of my suffering.

Maybe he just wanted to use me in order to be gay without having to admit it to the world.

I hate it.

These doubts.

These fears.

These thoughts.

I know I should trust him. But it hurts that he didn’t even bother sending a message to tell me he wouldn’t make it at the time we agreed on. It’s like… you know, it’s cool that you want to sleep with me, but maybe you could be a little serious for once, David?—I wish I could tell him that, but I can’t. It’s too early. It wouldn’t be good for our relationship. He did save my life when I wanted to die. He did… and then we never had a serious talk again, once he was far.

It’s during times like these—when I feel this way—that I ask myself if it would be better to end it.

I would go back to my usual routine, perhaps create a few more award-winning designs, work on some side projects and have interactions that amount to being entertaining and ever so casual with others, strangers. In such a life, I wouldn’t care so much. I would be happy with what I have. I would be happy without David. With the life I’ve made for myself. With the new contract I’ve received for that Hollywood monster movie and promises of success. With what it means to be a functional human being in this society.

But I’m not living that life.

And I care enough for it to scare me.

Friend, I only hope I’ll be strong to wait until I’m home before letting my tears fall if David does never show up.

Friend… thank you for listening, I will see you soon.

Yours,

Alexander