Conversations With My Love (boyxboy)

12. Declan's Secret Journal.

Pierre was not lying when he said that we would not be able to talk for a few days. A little part of me believed that I would be able to talk to him without his parents knowing but this task seemed to be difficult to achieve.

On this not so beautiful Monday morning, I did as I usually do - I came early at school because I knew that Pierre would come early and this would give me more time to spend in his presence. It was only a few minutes after I arrived at school that he came accompanied by his mom. Like always, they both went to the school library and after about ten minutes of waiting outside to see if Pierre was going to come out or not, I finally entered in the most silent ways.

I easily spotted him at his usual table, reading a book. I glanced around making sure that I was free to go talk to him when suddenly, I saw his mom walked to his table and sat with him. I did not really worry about it at first as I thought that she would quickly go away but no, I soon realized that there was a book in her hand, a book which opened and started to freaking read!

I sighed in desperation behind the bookshelf that I was hiding. I knew why she was doing that. She didn't want me to come near Pierre. She was guarding the place like if she was the dragon guarding the tower of Fiona in the Shrek movie. Of course, I wanted to do an act of bravery and rescue my beloved Prince but I was in so much shit already and for once, I did not want to add more to my pain by going to fight the dragon.

So I did the only thing that I could do. I walked away and went to the place where I normally went when I was not observing, aka stalking, Pierre. The rooftop of the high school. This was my favorite place in the entire high school actually. When I did not feel like watching Pierre, yes it did happen sometimes, I would come here and watch the beautiful blue sky that was offered to me. I would remain there until the bell rang, announcing that it was time to go to class. I would lie down and look at the sky, thinking a lot about my life. 

Sometimes, in rare occasions, I would think about how my life would have been if I did not live in this town, if I was in another family. My life would have definitely been different. Maybe it would have been much more happier for me, maybe my family would have been more loving and caring towards me but also, maybe I would not have met Pierre. That was one thing that ran through my mind multiple times but I simply put it aside because, I was sure of it, he was the love of my life and I knew that even though we were far apart, we would always find our way back to each other one way or another.

We were destined to be, I knew it deep down in my heart.

When I arrived on the rooftop on that particular Monday, instead of lying down and looking at the sky like I normally did, I sat down and removed out of my bag what many people would call a personal diary. Though, I preferred to call it my secret journal, it somehow appeared less girly to me.  

A few years ago, when I just entered high school, I started to get depressed with how much things were getting worse and worse for me. I became frustrated, my emotions were a complete mess, I was not able to express myself like I wanted, I could not open up, I could not be me. Then, I didn't remember how but, I got the idea of writing what I felt on paper. 

At first, I thought that it was a dumb idea but then I thought and thought about it before finally buying one big journal. I was not sure if this would help me feel any better but I had nothing to lose so I tried. The first few times, I didn't write everyday but then it started to become a habit. At night, I would take my journal and start to write about how I felt, what I saw, what were the general news of my life and my expectations.

It did feel good.

Though, I stopped writing last year. I didn't really know why I stopped. I just did and I did not touch my journal since then...until now. I was going to read it. You must be surely asking yourself why I wanted to read something that I wrote with my own hands. There was one single answer for that question and that was that I wanted to see how much I changed since I last recorded something about my life.