3 Dec.
Dear Diary,
Worst thing ever happened. I am so far in the friend zone that there is no returning from it. While watching a movie together today, Matt farted next to me.
Farted.
That’s all . . .
But each time I thought I had proof, I found something else that contradicted it. I turned the page and continued to read:
20 Dec.
Dear Diary,
Friends offered new take on farting incident: “Maybe he is just so comfortable around you that he can do that? Maybe it really means that he likes you THAT much. That he knows you will accept every part of him.”
Interesting theory. I did some research on it too, and as it turns out I found a piece called, “He doesn’t love you unless he farts around you.” Article seemed to confirm friend’s suggestions. Maybe farting is not all that bad. Maybe I am not as deep in the friend zone as I thought.
More later . . .
Dear Diary (Later)
No! I am so deep in the friend zone. So, so deep. Knee-deep? Waist-deep? No, I’m drowning in it. So today I did it, I had to. During one of our regular SMS marathons, I said, “I love you.” And his response? Can you guess? “Luv ya too, dude.”
Dude!
That should be considered one of the filthy four-letter words. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever read a word that has hurt me so deeply. My friends are starting to change their tune again. I wish they weren’t as confused as I was. Now they also suspect he’s not into me.
But how can Matt not be my soulmate? We spend so much time together, we have fun together, we are comfortable around each other, we share everything with each other . . . how can this not be a clear sign for soulmate-ness?
Maybe I mustn’t give up? Shit! I don’t know. I don’t know what to do. I’m back in that loop. The song is playing over and over in my head again.
More later . . .
Just reading it was making me exhausted and giving me a headache. I tossed the diary onto the bed and tried to figure out what the hell I was meant to do next. I opened the doors at the other end of my room and walked out onto the patio. The warm sea breeze hit me in the face and it was amazing.
The swimming pool was directly in front of me, its surface rippling in the breeze and glistening in the moonlight. And on the other side of the pool, behind a huge row of softly swaying palm trees, I could see the beach and tranquil sea. I sat there looking out over these various sights, hoping that they might imbue me with some kind of Dalai Lama-like inner peace, but they didn’t. Each time the sea water rippled and the breeze blew through the palm trees, I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. The more I stood still, the more my mind buzzed and hummed, and the more my entire body screamed at me to run. So I kicked off my shoes and stepped onto the soft grass.
I wandered aimlessly across the lawn; past the other rooms, past another small swimming pool, one abandoned slip-slop. I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew that I needed to walk in an attempt to escape my thoughts, even though I could feel they were right behind me, following me, nipping at my ankles like an angry dog.
How the hell had I become that girl?The “perfect” Hollywood rom-com-trope girl. The best friend who’s been secretly pining for the man who’s about to walk down the aisle and marry someone else. There’s a big difference between me and those movies, though. Those movies usually have a happy ending. The hero always lands up dumping the bride at the altar and then running off to pursue the best friend, realizing that he’s been in love with her this entire time. But in my case that was never going to happen, and I needed to somehow deal with it. The million-dollar question was how, though?
I heard a rustle in the plants behind me and jumped as something moved in the undergrowth. I turned just in time to see the big, prehistoric head emerge from the bushes. It was a massive tortoise. I got down on my haunches, despite very sore knees, and watched as the huge creature appeared. It looked at me slowly at first, and then stretched its neck out and brought its head all the way up to mine, as if it were trying to communicate with me.
“Hey, big guy,” I said to this bizarre-looking creature. There was something strangely wise about it, as if it had seen and done it all and knew everything.Maybe it did?
“So what do you think?” I asked him. He didn’t move and his stretched neck seemed frozen and then he locked eyes with me.
“Well?” I asked again. “Got any words of wisdom for me? Do you think I’ll ever get over Matt?”
And then slowly, and unexpectedly, he opened his beaky mouth and . . .
“Oh my God!” I jumped in fright, fell backwards and then scrambled away as quickly as I could from the eardrum-shattering noise that had just come blaring out of his mouth. It was a strange and terrifying cross between a groan and a roar—I didn’t even know tortoises made noises!It was disturbing. And then the noise changed. It was different this time, it was almost . . . Wait,was he laughing at me?It certainly sounded like it. I glared back at him and I could see it. See it in his inky-black evil eyes. He was judging me!
“You tortoise bastard!” I hissed at him. He looked at me with a serious death stare. I was just about to reprimand him more when I heard another bizarre and frightening sound.Oh my God, was someone getting murdered?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
