A page from the diary of a Hopeless Romantic

My beloved Diary,

If I’m asked to explain the day I’ve had in one word, I would say ‘distracted’. Even though I was stuck in the labyrinth of work and deadlines, my heart was longing for your smooth blank pages. Oh! how much I would have loved to make them dirty with the ink of my thoughts right then, right there. Whole day my fingers kept fidgeting with the pen, feeling lost and unambitious without your touch.

You are no stranger to my lust for romance and love. I’ve stripped my fantasies as well as secrets copious times in front of you, and confessed some rather scandalous incidents in between the lines of your pages. Today is one such day when I have a piece of me to share, and I can’t wait to disrobe my feelings and let you see me like no one else has or ever will.

Let’s start by chiding this mind of mine for being so naive about the surroundings. How can it tease me with the flashback of those soft and sinful lips when I’m in the middle of writing a report? Has it got no ethics whatsoever? And what about the time when my fingers accidentally brushed my neck, and that mutinous little thing reminded me of the bites I was hiding. I wouldn’t have minded these sudden burst of memories had I been a master at Poker face. But the innocent smile that curves my lips with every such fleeting thought explicitly gives away what’s on my mind.

And don’t get me started on this foolish heart which is an incorrigible romantic. When I wake up, it thinks about whether his eyes have seen the new day. When I work, it wonders (almost unceasingly) whether he is also thinking about me. When I go to bed, it proudly announces hours of insomnia because “we have to think about him before we sleep”. And when I’m asleep, it makes sure that I see him and only him in my dreams.

Oh my lovely Diary, how am I supposed to escape this sweet misery? I’m not capable of containing all these emotions and feelings without spilling them over and around everywhere. I’m petrified because the future feels like a cacodemon who is weaving this beautiful ploy just to trap me for an endless melancholy. But the mischievous duo of my mind and heart are working relentlessly to prove my hypothesis wrong and hope for a life full of love.

Oh well, only time will tell. Right now, I should just let loose and let these stellar thoughts transit me to the imaginary world of stars, fireflies and my special someone who is holding me in his arms, looking deep into my eyes and saying “I love you” like nobody has or ever will be able to say to me in gazillion years.

Yours truly,
Cupid’s Victim