I wanted it to be you. I mean, I was an idiot, but I was an idiot who knew what she wanted. We didn’t even know each other, not really. I don’t know what you saw from me, but I saw castles and stars in you.
Do you know how much I love writing? Most of our interactions happened in my diary, dazzling pieces of flash fiction that I was hoping to manifest. I noticed every little thing about you. I can prove it with the pages I filled from October to June.
I can’t stand the sound of my mother’s voice during her conference calls, the high-pitched Wall Street laugh, the obnoxious businessmen on the other side. My house is always loud. Sometimes you and I would sit in silence. I really, really liked that.
Sometimes I like to dance alone in my room to Taylor Swift’s entire discography. It’s my escape, where I get to be soft and unfiltered and real. People at school think I’m a hardass, so you probably thought the same. It’s a little scary to think I would’ve let you dance with me.
I am obsessed with social media attention. If the post doesn’t get enough likes, it comes down. I hate that about myself. You never post on social media. You hardly even like pictures. Whenever you liked mine, I would stare at the notification for days. Told you I was soft.
Truthfully, you don’t cross my mind anymore. Okay, you cross my mind sometimes. But your appearances in my diary entries have ceased; you’ve been demoted to a guest star rather than a member of the main cast. I told you I was doing good, and I really am. When we were something, I had no idea who I was, and I have some guesses now. We'll probably run into each other soon. It’s a small town, you know. All I ask is that you stay beautiful.
*This isn't really an edited diary entry, but I took snippets from a few of them and put this together. Some people wanted a sequel to "you're not meant to see this," and I think I needed closure for myself, too.