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"Sometimes, what we're too afraid to speak finds its way back to us — in the words we never expected to hear."
Dear Diary,
It was tucked inside the hoodie pocket.
I didn't even notice at first.
I was reaching in for a tissue,
still half-lost in my usual daydream fog,
when my fingers brushed paper.
Folded, smooth.
Cream-colored.
Deliberate.
My heart —
my entire heart —
sprinted.
There, in his familiar slanted handwriting,
was my name.
"Wunor."
No greeting.
No date.
Just this:
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You have a way of being quiet that makes the world louder.
And I mean that in the best way.
Since I met you, I've started noticing things again:
like how rain smells before it falls,
how trees lean toward sunlight without apology,
how moments — even the small ones —
can feel like fireworks when you're around.
You tell stories like you're handing someone a piece of your soul
and daring them to care for it.
I don't think you realize how rare that is.
Sometimes, I pretend I'm brave.
Brave enough to say this out loud:
That I'm falling for you.
Not just because you're beautiful
(because you are — in ways that aren't even fair).
But because you see things.
Feel them.
Turn them into wonder.
And suddenly, the world makes sense again.
The night of the lanterns,
when you wrote your secret and didn't let me read it,
I wanted to tell you mine too.
So here it is:
I don't want to just kiss you once.
I want to know all your seasons.
The bright ones.
The stormy ones.
The in-between.
I want to be the quiet place you come back to
when the world is too loud
and your thoughts are too many.
No pressure.
No rush.
Just truth.
– Him
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Diary, I didn't cry.
Not immediately.
I just held the letter to my chest
like a lighthouse clinging to its last spark of warmth.
And then I smiled —
the kind that reaches your bones
and whispers, "You are loved. You are seen."
I don't know what happens next.
But for the first time,
I'm not afraid to find out.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 🌧️📖🩷