From now on, I’ll be writing stories instead of journal entries. For real journal entries, go to my blogger.

Blog enties will now be narratives of scenes or descriptions of images that may or may not be real–or both. If you’re not happy, you could just visit my other blog where things are less boy-crazy.

I’ll actually start writing one. Now.

There’s a boy, you see. I’ll name him Matt.

Matt is Polish.

He’s gorgeous.

He has the dirty blonde hair he’d often so stylishly spiked up at the top of his head. He has almond eyes framed by brown-ish eyebrows and beautifully structured cheekbones.

In many words put short: He’s like an abercrombie model dressed up in American Eagle shirts and Aeropostale plaid shorts.

I like Matt.

The rest of my blog posts will be something like that. I encourage clicking on clickables.

Not all of my posts will be about Matt.
It will get better, I promise.

And so for my first post, I shall be writing about what may end soon. I think that’s pretty special.

Let me introduce a name, or at least, the alias I gave him when I talk about him around my friends. Khmi, aka my crush.

Not long ago, I decided that if in one school day, I won’t be able see his face, I may as well give up.

Give up, why? Because, after all, it’s just a crush. And my ego (not my heart) has been stepped on more than a couple of times by his smiling and overlooking eyes. Why doesn’t he see me? Why doesn’t he know?

And as it happens, today became that specific day I spoke of. It’ll be hard to ignore his presence the next time I do see him, because I still think he’s attractive. Just attractive.

That jerk.