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"How do you hold a pencil in one hand
and a heartbeat in the other?
How do you chase dreams
while cradling a soft kind of love?"
Dear Diary,
Today I wore my uniform,
but my heart was still wrapped in paper stars.
The classroom smelled like chalk and ambition.
Voices rose and fell in morning greetings.
Desks scraped the floor like they were rearranging the universe.
But inside me, it was still yesterday.
Still porch-light.
Still his smile when I handed him a moment on paper.
Jia noticed.
She leaned over in Economics class and whispered,
"You're glowing. Is it love or insomnia?"
I grinned.
"Both."
We laughed quietly into our notebooks,
but I could see it in her eyes — she was happy for me.
Even though she'd once sworn
that school and boys were like oil and water:
"Mix them and you'll just slip."
But I wasn't slipping.
I was learning to balance.
Learning how to shift between equations and emotions,
between schedules and softness,
between who I am on paper
and who I become when I see him waiting by the gate.
I took notes.
Raised my hand once or twice.
Answered a question right, and felt proud.
But during break,
when I sat under the almond tree with Jia,
my thoughts drifted…
To the porch.
To the folded stars.
To the way his hand lingered on the string
like he was adding me to a constellation.
"You're distracted," Jia teased,
taking a bite of her snack.
"I'm full of daydreams," I said.
"But I'm trying to make space for real life too."
Because I want this —
the grades, the dreams, the future.
But I also want
the way his voice lowers when he says my name.
The warmth of our silences.
The beauty in being seen, even when I forget to raise my hand.
After school, I didn't see him by the gate.
I waited a while.
But then I remembered something he said:
"Even when I'm not there,
I'll be rooting for you from wherever I am."
And just like that,
I didn't feel alone.
Till tomorrow,
Wunor 📝💫🎒
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