January 1st, 2004
Dear Diary,
They say teenagers are not capable of knowing what love is, that we are fueled off of nothing more than hormones. Well if that is the case I hope this sort of energetic lightning pulse of a feeling never ceases or diminishes, as I grow older.
If I know not what love is, than please Dear Diary, come to life and tell me that love, as an adult can feel stronger and more powerful than this. If this is not love, than this is insanity.
He called at around noon to tell me that he was coming to pick me up so we could spend New Years together.
At first this freaked me out, because as you know I have never been kissed, and I swear I must be the only loser on earth who at 17 years old has never been kissed. New Year's would change everything.
Before he came to get me, I had to perfect myself. I had to make sure every strand of hair was perfectly in place and I placed perfume on every ounce of skin. I brushed my teeth 4 times, because if this was going to be the night our lips were to finally brush up against one another, I wanted to make sure everything was perfect; especially my breath.
When he pulled up to my house he looked perfect, and I could tell that he spent time primping because he appeared to look more beautiful than the last time I had seen him. The sun had kissed his hair, and his eyes were so blue that even an ocean would stop to take notice. Those eyes I could get lost in, those eyes I would gladly sacrifice myself for and drown in.
We never say much while we ride to our destination. I never know where he will take me, and I never ask. I wonder sometimes if he thinks that's weird. I hope he knows that he could take me to hell, and back and I would be content so long as he were by my side the entire time.
We stopped off at one of his friend's house, and he actually took my hand as we walked in. This was an entire new element to this relationship. I never in my entire life thought a boy as beautiful as he would ever take my hand, and when he took my hand, it was like two magnets came together too quickly, hungering for one another's attraction.
I have never had sex, but my hand was tingling and felt like it would come to life and scream with joy. Each and every micro movement of his fingers sent electrifying jolts through my entire hand, which eventually trickled through my entire body. I could not even begin to fathom what a kiss would feel like. Perhaps I'd pass out? I'd be OK with that.
The night wore on, and small things like a smile, a giggle, or a change in his facial expression seemed so hugely significant, and wonderful.
At around 11:30pm I began to get nervous. I knew the ball would be dropping soon, and I knew that all of his friends had girlfriends that they would kiss. What do I do? How would I react? Would I be a good kisser?
Well Dear Diary, fear not!
As the countdown dropped with each passing second my heart beat grew louder, so loud I thought that others in the room could hear it.
I could tell that he too was nervous because when the ball dropped he went around and wished his friends a happy New Year before making his round over to me. His eyes nervously danced around before he came over to where I was standing. I was staring at the TV, pretending I was not waiting, pretending that this moment was not a serious as it really was.
Then it happened, the touch of his hand on my neck sent shivers through my body, as if he were a ghost, the hairs at the back of my neck and arms stood up.
I could feel every single strand that made me up reacting to his touch, and my heart felt as if it was swollen with a beating pressure so thick and forceful I thought it would burst. I could not even look in his eyes, because I knew that doing so could actually, physically, make me fall to my knees.
And just as soon as I thought I would die right here in this perfect moment, it got even more perfect because as soon as his lips touched mine I could feel his pulse beating in sync with mine, every fiber of his being now fused with mine.
This was the best night of my life, and I do not think I could, or am capable of recreating such a perfect feeling ever again. This was the peak before the fall, and I knew this. Not even sex could be so spectacular as this very moment was. Let me just die here in his arms and relive this moment forever.
January 2nd 2004
Dear Diary,
I decided to keep his name anonymous, because one day if someone were ever to get hold of my diary, I would want them to view him as they would through their very own eyes, because I am positive that every girl has had a 'him'; a 'him' they will never ever forget. That boy who had them walking on a tightrope with roller-skates on, that boy who they loved so passionately and purely that it felt like an avalanche of feelings would eventually just smother them, and they would accept that. Every girl has had a boy who was so perfect, that she knew she could not keep him, even from the very start. Every girl has had 'him', and no story is the same. So this dear diary, this is the very start of mine.
They say teenagers are not capable of knowing what love is, that we are fueled off of nothing more than hormones. Well if that is the case I hope this sort of energetic lightning pulse of a feeling never ceases or diminishes, as I grow older.
If I know not what love is, than please Dear Diary, come to life and tell me that love, as an adult can feel stronger and more powerful than this. If this is not love, than this is insanity.
He called at around noon to tell me that he was coming to pick me up so we could spend New Years together.
At first this freaked me out, because as you know I have never been kissed, and I swear I must be the only loser on earth who at 17 years old has never been kissed. New Year's would change everything.
Before he came to get me, I had to perfect myself. I had to make sure every strand of hair was perfectly in place and I placed perfume on every ounce of skin. I brushed my teeth 4 times, because if this was going to be the night our lips were to finally brush up against one another, I wanted to make sure everything was perfect; especially my breath.
When he pulled up to my house he looked perfect, and I could tell that he spent time primping because he appeared to look more beautiful than the last time I had seen him. The sun had kissed his hair, and his eyes were so blue that even an ocean would stop to take notice. Those eyes I could get lost in, those eyes I would gladly sacrifice myself for and drown in.
We never say much while we ride to our destination. I never know where he will take me, and I never ask. I wonder sometimes if he thinks that's weird. I hope he knows that he could take me to hell, and back and I would be content so long as he were by my side the entire time.
We stopped off at one of his friend's house, and he actually took my hand as we walked in. This was an entire new element to this relationship. I never in my entire life thought a boy as beautiful as he would ever take my hand, and when he took my hand, it was like two magnets came together too quickly, hungering for one another's attraction.
I have never had sex, but my hand was tingling and felt like it would come to life and scream with joy. Each and every micro movement of his fingers sent electrifying jolts through my entire hand, which eventually trickled through my entire body. I could not even begin to fathom what a kiss would feel like. Perhaps I'd pass out? I'd be OK with that.
The night wore on, and small things like a smile, a giggle, or a change in his facial expression seemed so hugely significant, and wonderful.
At around 11:30pm I began to get nervous. I knew the ball would be dropping soon, and I knew that all of his friends had girlfriends that they would kiss. What do I do? How would I react? Would I be a good kisser?
Well Dear Diary, fear not!
As the countdown dropped with each passing second my heart beat grew louder, so loud I thought that others in the room could hear it.
I could tell that he too was nervous because when the ball dropped he went around and wished his friends a happy New Year before making his round over to me. His eyes nervously danced around before he came over to where I was standing. I was staring at the TV, pretending I was not waiting, pretending that this moment was not a serious as it really was.
Then it happened, the touch of his hand on my neck sent shivers through my body, as if he were a ghost, the hairs at the back of my neck and arms stood up.
I could feel every single strand that made me up reacting to his touch, and my heart felt as if it was swollen with a beating pressure so thick and forceful I thought it would burst. I could not even look in his eyes, because I knew that doing so could actually, physically, make me fall to my knees.
And just as soon as I thought I would die right here in this perfect moment, it got even more perfect because as soon as his lips touched mine I could feel his pulse beating in sync with mine, every fiber of his being now fused with mine.
This was the best night of my life, and I do not think I could, or am capable of recreating such a perfect feeling ever again. This was the peak before the fall, and I knew this. Not even sex could be so spectacular as this very moment was. Let me just die here in his arms and relive this moment forever.
January 2nd 2004
Dear Diary,
I decided to keep his name anonymous, because one day if someone were ever to get hold of my diary, I would want them to view him as they would through their very own eyes, because I am positive that every girl has had a 'him'; a 'him' they will never ever forget. That boy who had them walking on a tightrope with roller-skates on, that boy who they loved so passionately and purely that it felt like an avalanche of feelings would eventually just smother them, and they would accept that. Every girl has had a boy who was so perfect, that she knew she could not keep him, even from the very start. Every girl has had 'him', and no story is the same. So this dear diary, this is the very start of mine.
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