Silly Diary

I think it's love. They would say I don't know what love is but I don’t think they really know either. They think that love is when you're together for so long that you don't have anything to say to each other. You just ignore the other person because they have nothing to offer you besides the routine. Or you yell at each other constantly, but work through your problems, “because that’s what true love is,” just to start yelling at each other again the next day. That's how my parents are and I don't think they're really in love at all. I think they hate each other’s guts, and are just afraid of being alone.

I've been saving up for this for the past two years and no one's going to stop me. I've seen everything she's made. I remember every move she makes, every movement of every part of her body. She's perfect all over. I can just stare at her elbow through the whole thing and I'd melt.

I admit that my thoughts weren't the most wholesome at first. Whose are? But as soon as I saw her I knew she was special. She was the kind of girl that doesn't look like any girl you’ve ever seen before, and you think to yourself, I didn't know that such a beauty could exist. A million artists in a million years would never come up with such a perfect combination. Never before had I seen such a perfect blend of the firm and the soft, the light and the dark, a mixture of imperfections that somehow surpass true perfection. I could stare at her for days trying to unravel the mystery.

I told them I'm going to Russia, but I didn't tell them why because it's none of their business. They wouldn’t understand me, just like I don’t understand them. My dad started talking about communists when I told them, if you can believe that. Anyway, even if I’m wrong I couldn’t stand to stick around here.

They told me that there’s no such thing as fate, that there is not one person out there that’s perfect for you. But I think they're wrong. Any sane man would think she was pretty, but I knew that most people wouldn't see what I see. Something deep in my DNA was telling me she was the one. The single most perfect specimen for me in all the world. And it has to exist. It’s just a matter of probability.

They told me that there’s no such thing as love at first sight, but I think they’re wrong about that too. Sometimes you can spend years with someone and not really know them, and sometimes you can know so much about them without ever sharing a word. I can tell you a lot about her by the way she looks and moves. A girl’s smile can reveal reveal her soul. There is so much information that people don't pick up on. Like when I saw her dance, I could tell she had a superficial joy that she used around people. And she used it so much that at times it almost became real. But underneath that is a deep sadness that she hates to think about. But I’ll bet you she thinks about it every night before she falls asleep. And even deeper than that she has a true happiness that she’s hardly even aware of, and sometimes she wonders if it really exists. It does, it's just been buried so deep under all the shit of the world. And she draws on that true happiness to feed the fake one and she kills it a little each time. But it survives waiting for someone to uncover it, nurture it, and give it new life.

Everyone always talks about old people love being the only love that's real, but I don’t believe love has anything to do with how long you’ve been together. Because people change over time. And if they change in different directions they'll just make each other miserable by staying together. And not only themselves but those around them too. Trust me, I've seen if first hand.

They tell me that I believe in a fairytale kind of love that doesn’t really exist. Like the knight that saves the princess from the dragon. People say that those stories are fake, and I think they're wrong about that too. There are princesses everywhere if you look hard enough. And there are dragons, and somebody has to slay them.

I’d always wondered how could she be doing this. How is it possible? Does she even know how beautiful she is? Then one day I noticed the cut on her leg, and I knew exactly why she was doing it. She’s doing it because there are dragons in the world. And I’m going because somebody has to slay them

I wouldn't care if I died over there trying to save her, and that's the God's honest truth. You can tell me a couple of old fogey's sitting in a rest home together, eating pudding and arguing about whose memory is correct is more beautiful than that, but I sure as hell wouldn’t agree with you.

I’m not like my parents. I admit that I may be wrong. But nothing I’ve ever been told up until now makes any sense to me, and I think it’s about time I started making decisions for myself. In two months we’ll see who was right.