Friday, June 8th, 2012

Dear Diary,

                        If I had to count the amount of times that Jesse has said “I love you,” too me, and receive a pound for it, I would probably have a million pounds. If I had to receive a pound for every time he’s said it and meant it, then I probably wouldn’t have any. One, if I’m lucky. But then, it would be because he meant it as a friend.

                        Today, while we were hanging out (me, Nate, and Jesse) he was rating girls with Nate, leaving me to “study in peace”. I didn’t even have anything to study! Arrogant twat, he is so annoying!

                                                                        Morgan-Willow DeLaurentis –ox

Wednesday, June 15th, 2012

Dear Diary,

                        Jesse bought me chocolates today. Sweet right? Well, it would have been if he hadn’t gotten them purely for the fact that he was using it to suck up for the fact that he left me in town for three and a half hours in the pouring rain. Since when did I pick friends that were always late, a pain in the ass, and so unreliable? Oh, wait, I didn’t. He couldn’t read. The playboy. I would have happily passed him in the corridors at college and not cared about him.

                        But that’s the problem, diary! I do care about him. I care about the fact that he nearly died. Twice! Just in the last six months. I care about the fact that he’s so stupid, he can’t even remember to turn the plugs off after him, and I have to do it for him. I care about the fact that when we wake up in the morning next to each other he smiles, like he genuinely likes waking up next to me, and I care about the fact that he is – although annoying as he is – my best friend.

                        I care about him.

                        I love him.

                                                                        Morgan-Willow DeLaurentis –ox

Tuesday, July 3rd, 2012

Dear Diary,

                        I went to my father’s grave today. Jesse came with me, held my hand, and wiped my tears. I had sat on the ground by my father’s grave—hugging it—and eventually I must have fallen asleep because he picked me up princess style and carried me back to the car and drove me home. Sweet, I know.

                                                                        Morgan-Willow DeLaurentis –ox


                       Tuesday, July 17th, 2012

                        =Jesse Jackson=

                        “What are you doing?”

                       I pushed a magazine over the cover of Morgan’s diary and turned around quickly. “Nothing,” I replied, my heart beating fast.

                        “What were you doing?” Morgan replied panicked, quickly pushing me out of the way. She saw that the magazines were on top and suspected I hadn’t seen them. Good. I didn’t want her knowing that I looked at her diary. I didn’t mean to. I mean, curiosity did kill the cat after all. I couldn’t help looking. I shouldn’t have, but once an idea is planned in your head and you want to know the final result, wouldn’t you have read it too?  Luckily, Morgan thought I hadn’t noticed the diary. Good. Cats are supposed to have nine lives, aren’t they?

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