I couldn't take my eyes off her, and suddenly, everything clicked into place.
I've read countless novels about love and destiny, but they were mere fiction, crafted by some writer sitting by a window, spinning tales from thin air.But this?This is real, and I need to put it into words.I must write about her.I must.
I returned home about an hour ago; it's nearly4 AM.5 AM.My dad was asleep, so I managed to dodge the usual confrontation.He'll catch up later; he hates me, and he won't miss our talks.But that's beside the point.It's her who matters…
Her name is Luna, and I have no fucking idea what to do next.Just yesterday, my concerns revolved around the latest video game for my PS or where to hang out and smoke.But now?Now I'm pouring my thoughts into this diary, like a girl.
This diary was a gift from my mom for my birthday.She suggested I jot down my feelings; it might help me find clarity.
Maybe she was right.I sometimes find myself missing her.
I realize my words may not make much sense right now; I'm still figuring this out.I'll do my best because I know my life has shifted significantly, all my focus is now centered on her.So, let me begin and see where this leads.I'll start with what unfolded just a few hours ago.
Mic picked me up around 10 PM, and we joined some dudes from capoeira at a bar.We shared shots and chatted for a while; some munched on sandwiches while I smoked.I'm not proud of it; I picked up smoking last year.It calms my nerves, but I plan to quit soon—sooner rather than later.
We didn't have any plans for the night, but that was typical for us.Someone suggested heading to some club by the beach, which was an hour away.Naturally, we all jumped at the chance.Mic drove, with two buddies in the back seat and another car following us.Mic decided to push the speed limit, and luck was on our side—no police in sight.
The club was packed, and finding parking was a hassle.I won't bore you with those details; let's get to the point.Once inside, we ordered more shots.The atmosphere was cool, and girls were practically throwing themselves at us, dressed like sluts, leaving little to the imagination.I was feeling indifferent; I considered finding a quieter spot with the girl I was dancing with, but her breath reeked of alcohol, so I excused myself to find a seat.The music thumped in my ears as I observed the crowd, mostly teenagers from a nearby camp I had visited last summer.But that's not the point—I'm rambling again.
Then,somethingsomeone did caught my eye.A girl: there was nothing special about her—cute, yes, but still just a girl.She wore sneakers with a short black dress, while the other girls tottered in heels they couldn't manage.Total waste of time.I felt as though I recognized her, and I couldn't shake the feeling.I stared, trying to jog my memory.I was sure I hadn't slept with her, yet my curiosity was piqued, so I continued to watch her.She fiddled with her fingers, chatting with two other girls, clearly uneasy.
And then it hit me—like a lightning strike.It all fell into place like a jigsaw puzzle, each piece aligning until the picture emerged.I knew her—not intimately, but I'd seen her before.She was from my school, where I transferred a couple of years ago against my father's wishes.He envisioned me as a lawyer like him, but I had other plans.I intentionally flunked so I could switch to V’s school even though I had to repeat the year, hoping to protect my little sister after what happened to her.
But I'm digressing again.Writing feels liberating—I can express whatever I want.This is cool, actually.
Returning to that girl, I realized the connections didn't stop there.I had seen her in London last month at a museum with her parents.My mom had taken me there, and I spotted her gazing at a painting, looking bored.I hadn't paid her much mind then, but now it was clear my subconscious had registered her.I also recalled seeing her last summer at the camp by the pool, where she turned crimson from sun exposure while I was making out with another girl.And when I was about 14, she sat a row below me in a cinema, engrossed in the same movie, a gigantic bowl of popcorn in her lap.It made me smile.
I can even trace this back to when I was nine.My mom took me to the mall for Christmas shopping, tasked with finding a present for V and my dad.I saw her with her mother, clutching a doll that looked like her.While waiting in line, I was right behind her, and I said, “Your doll looks like you.”She turned, her large, glassy eyes sent goosebumps across my skin.She didn't respond, and I had completely forgotten that moment until now.But that wasn't the earliest memory; it's amusing how I hadn't recalled any of this before.It felt like there had been a barrier separating us, and now it has crumbled, allowing me to see everything.It's as if fate, if you believe in that shit, had been guiding us, ensuring our paths crossed but delaying our interaction.
I remember that summer day as if it were yesterday.I was around six.My parents rented a beach apartment, and while V played in the water with Dad, I lay on the sand beside Mom.She was reading a book under her big hat and sunglasses.I noticed a girl with light blonde hair building sandcastles that looked more like tall mushrooms.Curiosity drew me to her, and I watched as she crafted her creations.
“What are you making?”I asked.She paused, looked at me, and replied, “Skyscrapers.”As if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“Do you like skyscrapers?”was my next question, and I felt foolish for asking.She smiled and replied, “Of course.”Again, it was obvious to her.“Why?”I pressed.She grew serious for a moment, gazing into my eyes before finally answering with a smile, “Because you can hide from the monsters, you dummy.”
August 10th
August 11th
It's already past midnight, which means my birthday has officially come to an end.My mom didn't make it after all.She missed celebrating my 19th birthday, saying that work came up and she couldn't make the flight here.All my dad managed to say was, "Oh, happy birthday, son!"It was a pretty shitty day.I really wanted to do something that would make it better.I can't believe I did something so reckless and foolish.Why on earth did I do it?Fuck… this isn't who I am.What was going through my mind?Clearly, nothing—I just let impulse take over.Why the hell did I go to her house in the first place?What if she had caught me?What kind of excuse could I possibly come up with?"Oh, I noticed your window was open and decided to sneak in.By the way, I couldn't help but read your diary since it was left out."Great, just great...Shit… Why am I acting like this?I'm losing my mind.
I need to regain control and think logically.I can't let myself become fixated on this girl, but what she wrote struck a chord with me.It wasn't about stupid matters like nail polish shades or shopping for new outfits—no, her thoughts were profound.Fuck… I want to be the person she wrote about, someone who would truly listen and be there for her.Something has clearly hurt her, and I feel this overwhelming desire to help her heal.But why do I feel this way?And how could I even fit into her life?She seems to have a boyfriend, which complicates things further.This is all so messed up.This is sick, and I'm even sick of myself.
August 24th
My mom bought me a car, quite a generous gift.I guess it was an apology for missing my birthday.She just flew back to London this morning.But I gladly accepted her gift.
September 16th
My head is exploding; mixing beer and weed was clearly a mistake.It's already noon, but I can't remember how long I actually slept.Fuck…
It just dawned on me what I've done.I swear I'm going to choke Clous; it was his brilliant idea to sneak into the school.I shouldn't have smoked.Tomorrow will be a fucking circus.The whole school will be buzzing about it.They'll definitely question her or, worse, see her name scrawled all over the walls.I really wasn't thinking straight; I thought I was writing down in my diary or something, but I clearly didn't realize I was tagging the walls repeatedly.I just hope that camera isn't functional.If it is, my dad will be overjoyed—he'll finally have a reason to ship me off to London.He's been furious with me ever since I beat down that moron who hurt my V.He doesn't know the truth.I promised to protect my sister, and I intend to keep that promise, no matter the cost.
September 17th
Well done, Zane.Now she hates you.Just what you deserve.But, fuck, she smells good.It's not perfume; it's her skin.Like the most delicious cake you can imagine.I had to fight the urge to bury my face in her hair.
I thought playing the bad guy would be intriguing—girls seem to be into that—but that was a stupid move.
