Mar. 10

Dear Journal,

Bryce has so many aspirations. He wants so many things. He wants to do everything. He wants to meet everyone. He enjoys it all whether the experience is inherently pleasant or not. No matter what, that smile still rests on his face.

It changes, his smile. How wide it is, how bright, but it remains constant. It’s always on his face. Always. We can be deep in the trenches, and there he is, still able to throw a smile my way. It’s not the widest, not the most glamorous—It’s only a nod and a smile, but it’s enough.

I want that, Bryce’s constant smile. I suppose that’s much of our relationship, admiration, maybe even bordering on envy. I certainly admire Bryce, you must know that by now, Journal, my sole listener, my dear reader.

I admire his strength, his heartiness, his jovial nature—Bryce’s handsome. Extremely handsome. He’s a masculine kind of handsome that I’ve strived for many times in my life but have always given up on achieving.

He grows this soft shadow of a beard during the day. It gives him this rugged look, one that I normally wouldn’t approve of, but it suits Bryce. Although, I’ve begun to assume that Bryce has a suitable appearance for every occasion.

We’re meant to don our formal clothes every now and again. Those are the moments when I must contain myself. It’s those moments where he is so damn shocking to my composure. It’s those moments when he looks perfect, more so than usual, when I must take every action humanly possible to prevent my heart from bursting out of my chest for fear that I will die on the spot.

-Adrian