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DIARY ENTRY # 546 ! IS IT?
Dear Diary,
Is it wrong?
To think constantly of the angelic, yet boyish soul of whom I know doesn't belong to me. To look forward to the countless nights spent in his presence, mulling over the little interactions that linger between us. To want him to stay, beside me, forever? Or is that too much to ask for?
Is it love?
That so-called, wonderful yet destructive feeling Papa barely mentions, yet never fails to remind me ── each morning, and each night, with merely a kiss and a hug. Is it? Or perhaps admiration, which wouldn't at all be so inaccurate considering he's an artwork. Entangled in rich, brownish garments and laced with sarcasm and comical remarks, he was beautiful, inside and out. He always, surprisingly, knew what to say, yet rarely took his own advice ── somewhat strange, if you asked me. He shall never know about such confessions, ever. I fear it'll ruin our friendship.
