I’m either retarded, or God hates me, and he probably does since I don’t believe in him lol

But seriously though: F U C K

Here I am, trying to text my lovely boyfriend Alexander the greatest AND GUESS WHO SPILLED SODA ON HIS PHONE

THAT’S RIGHT

IT’s YOUR BOY!!!!

SpiCY

Well

I suppose I’m going to be David in this diary, but whatever

I reallllllllly hope he isn’t still waiting for me and that I can just get Alex a bouquet of flowers like they do in those romantic movies, and surprise him on his doorstep tomorrow morning—or wait, technically, it’s already morning, but I meant the later morning. The much, much later morning.

Okay.

I guess I’ll also buy him some food even though that’s not enough of an apology, but like, fuck seriously, even I’d dump myself for being such an idiot.

Anyway, I don’t know what people usually say in these fancy little notebooks, or if it’s as self-deprecating as what I’m writing right now, but my heart is beating so fast, and the baby that threw up earlier is now sitting in the seat next to me, and I’m so nervous because I wanted this to be perfect so bad but it’s just been one fuck up over the other……

Fuck. Man, I wish I could be as calm and as cool as Alex always is. It’s like nothing’s phased him ever since that rooftop incident. Even when he does have issues now, he solves them easily on his own. I mean, maybe not easily, I know it’s not that simple, but it’s like whatever he does everything always turns out for the better and I’m sure he’d know what to do in this situation. Every time we call, if one of us has an issue, it’s never him. It’s me. All the time. And I hate it, feeling so dumb.

But yeah, David logging off for now, or writing off… I dunno what the right term for that is. Maybe I’ll check back in if the flight hasn’t crashed and I haven’t been robbed by then. Also, I kind of wanted to write more, but the baby looks on the verge of puking again and having a soggy notebook would suck.

BYE!

(God, I really hope I don’t die, I need to kiss Alex again with chubby-less cheeks before I kick the bucket lol)

***

Dearest friend,

It has been a couple days since I last wrote to you. I would like to find a better excuse than I’d forgotten, but it is the truth—I forgot, truly, I did.

I feel silly when I look back on my last entry. Although I can still relate to the feelings I described, it is as if they do not belong to me anymore. When I saw David at the airport, they faded, and all I wanted to do was run to him and hold him in my arms.

It is a strange thing—love. When I did greet him, he started crying. And it wasn’t just a few tears, they were sobs, that caused everyone to give us weird looks as if I had just beaten him with a giant, wooden stick.

David told me I shouldn’t have waited. He explained his phone was dead (we’ve since then remedied to that and got him a new one). He said he didn’t deserve me, and that I deserved better; I still think it was the sleep deprivation talking, for he did not seem to mind when we crawled into bed together and surely set a world record for the longest nap in history.

Apparently, he had planned to surprise me with an abundance of gifts once he discovered he’d be late, and since he could not do this due to my being there to greet him at the airport, David opted for making me pancakes once I awoke instead. Granted, they were a bit burnt, and crisp, but since they did not disturb my bowel movements in abnormal ways, I considered it a success.

It’s going to be weird spending Christmas with him. It’s already strange enough—in a good way—to wake up to him every other day. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it, or if it will always feel like bliss to open my eyes and see him drooling over my pillow.

The logic in me thinks this feeling may also be because I’m taking my first days off in a while—that itself, is a new experience overall. I’m surprised: I wake naturally with the sun even without my alarm now!

Any who, I believe it is almost time for me to close this off. David and I are making chocolate fudge cupcakes, and the slight burning smell coming from the kitchen isn’t doing anything to reassure me, if I’m being honest. I will try to report back whenever I can; if it isn’t now, I’m sure Alex of the future will have a laugh whilst flipping through this journal later on.

Yet, still, I must say—since David’s arrival in my life, I’ve become quite the sentiment bloke.

Friend, is this what they mean when they say loving is a rollercoaster of emotions?

Yours,

Alexander