The Mundane Journal Entries of an Ordinary Person

Season: Summer

Weather: Windy again

Day of the week: Thursday

Date: 8th February, 2024

So, uh, he found me hiding in my wardrobe, writing in my journal. I could have just buried myself there and then.

For a long moment, he just stared. I couldn't tell what he was thinking because his expression was so complicated. And then he sat down on the floor so that he would be eye level with me and put his head down with his hands on his head with a very deep and heavy sigh. When he raised his head again after such a long moment that I almost reached out to touch his head, I saw that he was crying.

Did I make him that stressed? I must have made him worried by hiding from him like that. And yet, it was still so embarrassing. I still didn't want to face him. He'd been so patient and kind so far. It just made me wonder when he would give up or throw me out like everyone else had.

"Miss Brown," he said in a heavy voice, "I think you need to see a Psychologist."

Not what I had been expecting him to say. Not at all. Words of concern rather than an angry tirade. Not that I wanted to see a Psychologist either.

"I'm sorry," I said automatically, shrinking further back into the wardrobe. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

At that, he grabbed me, yanked me out of the wardrobe so that my journal fell on the floor and my pen rolled somewhere with a clatter. He pulled me into a tight embrace and just patted my back.

Just like that.

It was kind of nice.

To be hugged. I couldn't remember the last time I had been given such a good, long hug. It was kind of relaxing. Relieving. I could feel my tension melting away.

And then we had a deep conversation. The type of cathartic talk that makes you feel much better afterwards, but that you can't remember, no matter how much you try. I can't remember what we talked about or exactly what happened.

I remember that he picked up my journal and happened to see my panicked notes from the previous entry, making him laugh. Argh. I could have buried myself a second time there. I tried to take my journal back but he held onto it.

"Just this page," he told me. "Let me read just this page. I also want to understand what you were thinking after you kissed me. It was a shock to me as well."

It seems like he has no romantic interest in me. I can't say I'm not disappointed, but I was very relieved. After all, who would want a broken workaholic like me? There's not really much to like or love, is there? Otherwise why would my parents have always taken Bezel's side and then thrown me out when it was obviously not my fault? I don't get it. I really don't. Am I adopted?

"What kind of relationship is this?" he asked me, gesturing between us. "You tell me. I won't push your boundaries. Let me know when you've made up your mind. We're both adults. Surely you can tell what's going on. I'm not one of your direct line bosses. It won't interfere with work. You don't have to be afraid."

This. This is hinting at something, right? He's hinting at something. Something crazy. Something scary. Something unknown.

If he likes me, I don't understand. I don't see how he can like me. What's there to like? Is he not just treating me like a wounded little animal in need?

I don't have a high EQ. I don't get it. You have to tell me things straight. Don't beat around the bush like this.

While I stared at him in a bit of a daze, he kissed me. He kissed me. He kissed me. Argh! Now what do I do? He kissed me and I can't stop freaking out. I'm super scared and freaking freaked out now.

The words he said linger in my ears.

"Miss Brown, you are worth it. You are worth all the effort and trouble I have gone through in order to help improve your life. You are worthy to be loved. You have so many positives that I don't even know where to start. Don't look down on yourself."

The warmth of his embrace lingered on my body, especially when I realised I was sitting in his lap. I can still feel his breath on my skin. The scent of his aftershave or body lotion or something.

I'm quite ready to blow my top and explode. Or dig a hole and bury myself in it.

He kissed me on the forehead, picked me up from the floor and tucked me into bed. He... he... he's so nice. And handsome. And from the feel of his body, has some muscle too. Not that flabby like some other men his age.

I think he's only a few years older than me. Not more than four years older, anyway.

I'm not worthy. He deserves someone better. Really. Don't look at me.

He kissed me.

What am I supposed to do now?

He's interested in me and has the keys to my apartment. Somehow that feels dangerous.