My Neighbor I Know So Well (AmeCan)

He was Always Just Across the Border (America)

23 September, 1945

     I honestly didn't think my resignation back to the States could've been carried as smoothly as it did three weeks ago. And sorry that I couldn't fill in at the time because I've been coped up thinking: 

     The amount of entries I can write in this little diary have narrowed down to one more. The first time I counted the extra empty pages, there were six left. This time when I recounted I had two pages left and I'm using one of them right now, so that leaves me with one more entry to insert. To refrain from misusing the last page, I'm going to store this diary away until I'm completely sure the next event would prove to me of worth recording. 

     It's piteous how many pages were wasted by my stupid entries. Some I thought were actually sincere, serious, or intriguing, while most I thought were utterly impetuous and written carelessly by the works of an imbecile. What I find hilarious yet creepy of me is that I personify my diary like a friend. I used the pronoun "you" instead of plainly calling it an object (which it obviously is). Was I that desperate for company? Desperate for someone- anyone to be with me at all times and listen to whatever I have to say? Anyone to listen to me scream out my problems when I could no longer hold them in? Or maybe all I wanted was for someone or something to see me when my whole comes crumbling down, and I was no longer the only one who knew the person behind this stupid, fake smile of mine. I don't think I've ever hated anything more than my smile. To believe that I had carried such a burden all my life and forevermore...depressing, isn't it? 

     But until I had reached my 20th entry did I begin to realize that the someone who I so desperately needed was just across the border. All these years and never had I once figured they were never too far from me. I blame my oblivious tendency for it. 

Matthew, through all of our years knowing each other, I never thought you would be the one to see who I really was on the inside. No matter how hard I tried to conceal myself from you, I knew I'd eventually break and you'd see truth behind my obnoxious smile. I agree it's absurd to say "I love you" unexpectedly, but through long hours of contemplating, I want to do just that. I'm finished with the surfaced sincerity of a simple "thank you" because I believe you deserve better than that. And I'm not just saying I love you in a best friend-like manner, I say this for all of the things you've done for me, for never giving up on me, for remaining by my side growing up and the wars we've fought. All those nights spent together both in our highest and lowest, every little thing you say that makes me laugh, everything about you that makes me want to scoop you up in my arms and hold you. You're still so innocent and pure no matter how much you argue it. I want to protect you from anything that could take those two things away.

     I don't think I've ever been so close to someone as I am with Mattie. The only people I can think of are all long dead. To be honest, I thought we never had a chance to begin with. At first glance I was convinced that this whole thing would've never worked out and all we would be were just neighbors with no intentions of business with each other. I was wrong, and for that I'm glad. 

     He's coming down to see me when I return. Meeting each other after being gone for so long has become a sort of tradition for us. I thank time and freedom for it. He said that he'd spent a week or two worth of holiday with me, but I insisted he'd stay longer. 

     So without further ado, I conclude this second to last entry. I'll store you away temporarily like I had before until the next event comes which will give me the ultimate urge to write it down. 

     'Till then, diary.

Your keeper, Alfred