yes, i am aware the last time i updated was jan. 19 but lemme tell you that college kills my soul and i've never been more sad or anxious in my whole life hahaha college is the greatest!!!! anyway, i really want to take this summer to invest my time in something that will make my soul happy again. i've been working on this chapter for literally months and i'm just proud i finished. shoutout to sarcastic_kitten12 for this cute cover <3

please ignore weird typos and mistakes, i hope you enjoy!

✦✧✦

"We didn't even realize we were making memories. We just knew we were having fun." 

- Winnie the Pooh

✦✧✦

Dear diary

"Oh, gross. I knew I didn't wanna call it a diary."

Dear journal

"Mm, no. What about –"

Dear me

"Ehh..." And in a final attempt...

Dear Darcy Howard?

I let out a half groan, half laugh, and shouted, "This feels stupid!"

I erased the starter line once more and tossed the journal towards the end of my bed, realizing only after the release that I threw a little too hard. The book flew right over the edge and landed on the floor with a loud thud. With a jolt of my heart, I quickly got up to get it, relieved when I saw that none of the pages were creased. This journal was way too nice for me to man-handle like that. Chris surprised me with it. And by surprise, I mean surprise. It wasn't an ordinary, "look, I got you something!" No, it was way bigger than that.

I arrived at the café for my Saturday shift. While I was still a few feet away, I noticed a streak of color all across one of the café's windows. At first, I guessed that Papa maybe had asked Ben to go out and get some window markers to decorate the front windows for the holiday season, since he loves to doodle. He's not very modest about it – but hey, the man has talent for cartoon characters. He even drew some funny ones on a couple of cups and bags that I was writing messages on in my spare time.

However, the window did not say anything at all about the holidays. Instead, the words, "Document a night with me at Winter Formal?" was written in big multicolor blocked letters. There was a circle drawn around the word "me," and an arrow extended out to a square that encased Chris's face as he stood on the other side of the window.

By the time we locked eyes, he was already sporting a radiant – almost teasing – smile. The face I must have pulled at his stunt had to be amusing to him. I could only imagine what I must have looked like. However I looked, it must have shown the confusion, bewilderment, and disbelief I was feeling. He didn't even try to save me the embarrassment of being asked in front of customers and passersby. There was even some guy pointing his phone camera at me, recording. My heart thudded hard against my chest as everyone stared, anticipating, but it was also thudding for a whole different reason.

Was a cute boy really asking me to a dance? And not just any cute boy, but Chris?

I was speechless, frozen to the spot as if the frigid temperature outside rooted me there. Then, Chris pulled something from behind his back and pressed it against the window. In his hands was a navy blue, hard covered journal with floating golden leaf detailing on the right-hand side. It was a lot lovelier than the spare purple composition book I was planning to use for journaling.

Three weeks later, however, and the journal's papers remained blank (besides all the eraser marks). I didn't know what was stopping me. Besides actually writing in it, I've touched it every night. Flipping through the pages, tracing the golden detailing, tapping my nails against its hard cover like its ASMR.

I'm being ridiculous, I know. The whole point of the journal was to document everything so that I would never forget, but I think I've been holding out for something special for my first ever entry.

"Maybe tonight," I wondered aloud, then cocked my head at the idea. Tonight... Yeah, tonight! Wouldn't tonight be the best way to start? After all, Chris's punchline for the proposal was that we would document this night together. If this wasn't fitting enough for my indecisive ass, then I don't know what was.

I was brought to my front door by fervent knocking. London stood on the other side. The smile she wore grew even wider, more devilish, at the reluctant groan that escaped my lips at the sight of her. It's not like I forgot this was going to happen, but I was almost hoping she'd forget.

How silly of me, I thought as I grabbed the set of keys from the hook besides the front door. "Let's get it over with," I told her, brushing past her and into her apartment. She caught up quickly, taking hold of my arm with a mix of a giggle and faux maniacal laugh.

London was among the crowd within the café when Chris asked me to the dance and, upon me saying yes to Chris's proposal, was insistent that she help "pretty me up" for my "big night." I was both thankful and regretful in extending a yes to her. Thankful in that, yes, I did need help getting ready for the dance. With my history of going to a social school event being a big fat zero and my schema of how to get ready for a school dance all based off of TV shows and movies, I was glad for a realistic guidance. Regretful was probably too harsh of a word to describe how I felt. Nervous? Unsure?

London always said that one day she was going to do my makeup the way she did it. The thing is, "the way she does it," is the full glam of a talented beauty guru you'd watch on Youtube. Don't get me wrong, I love and admire London's skills. Often, I'll come by in the mornings to chat and watch her do her makeup.

I did want London to do my makeup for tonight, except I really just wanted us to have this time together (almost like sister bonding), but I was almost afraid as to how heavy handed she was going to be despite what I say. That worry was written on my face, and I could see how evident that worry was as I took a seat in front of the vanity inside her bedroom. Building this vanity was actually the first real bonding experience London and I had when Papa and I first moved in. Upon seeing it arrive at her door, Papa offered me to help her build it. By that time, we already hosted a few dinners with London at our place, so I (still nervously) agreed. We fussed over not wanting to read the directions, then regretted our decision later as we inevitably screwed up. Nails were missing, things were dropped on toes and fingers. Papa found us later leaning against London's bed with an unfinished vanity, parts strewn about, and a box of pizza between us. He finished it for her.

The once clean, white wood was now covered in powder fallout. Two cups of different sized brushes and an organizer of numerous eyeshadow palettes sat on top. Beneath were three drawers filled with highlighters, blushes, lipsticks, and who knows what other makeup products. It seems like new ones come out all the time.

London put her hands on my shoulders and used the mirror to look me in the eyes. "Trust me."

"That's what you've been saying for days now. I'm afraid."

There. That devilish smile again. It was not reassuring. She spun the chair around, turning me away from the mirror, and said in a sing-song voice, "No peeking."

"London." I was serious. "Today is not the day to 'do it like you do.' If I hate it, we have no time to fix it." Chris was going to be by in around two hours, and I still had to do other things. Y'know, typical girl things, like shave, paint my nails, and suffer through plucking the underneath of my eyebrows. Plus, of course, dress and shoes.

She winked, saying again, "Trust. Me."

✿❀✿

I have watched many movies and shows where it lays out nights like tonight in a specific sequence of events. They're all same across the board. I felt like I was checking the box of each one as it happened.

Phase one: beautify. Complete.

London stuck to her word and did a beautiful warm shimmer eye-look to match with my dress. It was London's mission to find a dress that matched Chris's bowtie. I found it silly; she deemed it necessary. It was something she wouldn't let up on, but we were fortunate enough to find one that was both pretty and affordable. The blue tulle, pleated, floor-length dress matched perfectly, and I found it especially fun to twirl in. So much so that I spent a good twenty minutes twirling with Papa around the living room with it until he was tired.

When I was younger, I would stand on his toes as he would walk around the apartment. It was especially fun to do while he danced, listening to slow, old music from his day.

In progress was phase two: pictures. It wasn't as enjoyable as much as playing dress-up and make-up with London.

"Pa, please no more," I begged as light spots began to flitter around in my vision.

"At least these ones didn't come out blurry," London said as she inspected the pictures. Papa grinned over her shoulder, murmuring how "this one was nice but in this one she has to pick her head up some more."

"Great," I said with a huff. "Can we go?"

"Uh, no." London nodded her head towards the mantle. "Chris, you're up."

Chris, looking really quite dashing in his black suit and blue bow-tie, stood from his seat on the couch and complied without a word. I met him halfway and dropped my forehead onto his shoulder, groaning. "Dude, c'mon."

"You know who would kill if we didn't take some pictures? Jessica, who I did tell that you were my date to this dance," he replied. Knowing fully well that she'd probably go off on us about the need to document a memory that could very well slip from our minds years from now, I complied as well.

"All right, one more and . . ." Papa's smile widened. The flash went off and he began to chuckle. "Perfect bunny ears, Chris."

I brought my elbow back into his stomach and felt the satisfaction of him doubling over in a groan. "You suck. C'mon, let's go already."

There was still a bit of strain from the blow as he laughed. "Ah, at least I didn't lose my date."

I gave my final hugs to London and kisses to Papa and headed out the door, a promise of having me home by one thrown from over Chris's shoulder.

As the door closed behind me and I began to walk (much more confidently in my heels, after waltzing with Papa around the couch) towards the elevator, Chris took my hand to stop me. "Wait," he said.

I turned to look at him, but when I did, I was faced with Chris holding up his phone with his front-facing camera catching my quizzical look. He stuck his tongue out.

I laughed. "What are you doing?"

"No hate on your friend, but those pictures were staged and uncomfortable." His arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer to his side. "Let's take some casual ones," he said, sticking his tongue out once more, this time directing it towards my face.

"Excuse me, you snuck in those bunny ears at the last moment!" Still, I stuck my tongue out as well.

Now in addition to the typical corsage and boutonniere pinning, hand on chest, smile in front of the mantel pictures, we now had selfies full of scrunched faces, jutting tongues, and double chins. I liked them a lot.

With phase one and two complete, we were off to stage three, which was pre-dance dinner. This phase, I was the most nervous about. In all the days that Chris and I have been hanging out, I have yet to properly meet his friends. I wimped out each time he offered to have them come over to the café or invited me to eat lunch with them in the cafeteria. I often still eat lunch with Mrs. Ichikawa.

Now, there was no escaping it. We were at the Japanese restaurant in no time. I took hold of Chris's arm as he explained to the lady at the front desk that our friends were already here. Then I heard the loud scrape of a chair as a boy with tan skin and short black hair stand and wave his arms, looking straight at us.

"There you are!" I flinched at the volume of his voice; it was like a disturbance rippling through the serene restaurant that was lit with warm, dim lanterns and ambient music playing through the speakers.

"It's about time, man!" said another boy, who looked a lot similar to the first person that spoke. Brothers? "You took fuckin' forever!"

"Oh, lay off. I had a date to pick up, which –" Chris extended a hand to me and gently guided me in front of him, like a parent coaxing a frightened child hiding behind their stature – "here she is. Guys, this is Darcy."

There was a resounding hello from around the table. I held my breath as I waved.

"Darce, this is Cooper, Bryson, Marissa, and Philip." As Chris pointed to each person, I tried to commit their face and name to memory. Don't forget, don't forget.

"Ah, so this is the girl we've heard about," said Bryson, the loud one. "Nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you guys, too," I replied. Looks like Chris was the odd one out with his bowtie.

"Maybe the party can finally start now that you guys are here. To be honest, I'm not sure if tonight will be very fun, but at least we can eat some good food before we go," Cooper, Bryson's maybe brother, said.

Chris' expression dimmed. "Seriously? Man, you guys were the one who hyped it up to me in the first place and now you're putting it down?"

"I told you, it's senior year! We've got to experience everything we can before graduation. The countdown's already begun."

I had to say, I agreed with Cooper's thinking. Days will come and go, and it's all just a countdown. Walking through the same halls you've walked in for years. Seeing the same people you've seen almost every day. In the end, everyone takes home the same diploma, but everyone leaves with their own unique memories.

I wanted tonight to be something Chris can think back on with the same small, fond smile he does every time he recalls something nice from the past. For him, for me, and for his friends, too, I wanted this experience to be a good one.

After Chris and I gave our orders to the waitress, Chris became engaged in a heated discussion of Super Smash Bros characters, and the only other girl there, Marissa, turned to me with a smile that had braces on them.

"So, is this your first dance?" she asked me.

"Yes, it is." The thought of me going to any of the school dances when I lived in California almost made me laugh. Imagine, rather than dancing with the rest of my classmates, I'd be on the side, talking to the chaperones. "It's nice to meet you guys," I added.

"Oh, believe me, it's exciting for all of us to meet you. Chris has talked all about you for the past couple of weeks."

"Oh?" Though the restaurant was actually a bit cold, I felt myself get warmer.

Fortunately, Marissa was quick to back track. "All good things, of course!" she reassured me.

"Well, M, don't lose Chris a date before the dance has even begun," said Philip, the boy next to her.

She scrunched her nose at him, but then placed her hand on his. "This is Philip, my boyfriend."

I grinned. "That's awesome! For how long now?"

"Almost a year," she says, fondly stroking Philip's hand. He hasn't said much since we arrived, but he had the smallest of amiable smiles on his face.

By the end of dinner, I had a taste of everyone's personalities and character. Bryson and Cooper were not brothers, but close childhood friends brought together when their parents moved here from the Philippines. Marissa kept the duo in check, often shushing them when they got too loud and rowdy. Philip was a man of little action and few words, but was constantly engaged in the different conversations. He also gave Marissa little kisses on the forehead, which was enough to make my heart melt every time.

After gathering our separate checks and Marissa and I reapplying lipsticks in the bathroom, we were on to phase four: roll up to the dance... and, well, have fun. Try to at least.

The dance was held in our gym. Our student government did their best to decorate it to this year's theme of the "Aurora Borealis Ball." Meaning all the decorations – from the balloons to the lights – were different shades of green, blue, purple, and pink. Everything was in full swing by the time we arrived and, as expected, I was very, very uncomfortable. What I really didn't expect was how awkwardly stiff Chris would be. Through the days and weeks leading up to this dance, we didn't talk too much about it. I knew he hadn't gone to anything before, like me, but he looked just as equally uncomfortable. As our little group found ourselves merging with a dance circle, Bryson and Cooper screaming and cheering on the person in the middle, I took Chris's arm and scooted us a little way away.

"You okay?" I asked, raising my voice to battle the volume of the music. It was loud enough to make my whole chest rattle.

In response, he only shrugged his shoulders. I frowned. Guess we're awkward bodies together. Soon, though, the classic of all classic songs, Cupid Shuffle, came on, and Cooper and Bryson coaxed us into following along. Marissa reappeared by my side, heels in her hands, and jumped in line with us.

An hour later, my shoes were off as well. I was sweaty, hot, and aching, but I was smiling.

After multiple attempts to get them to dance, Philip and Chris wandered off to a table with our things. Bryson and Cooper were hopping from dance circle to dance circle, leaving me and Marissa together. We actually ended up dancing with a few other girls, one of who was in my college algebra class, after they had complimented us on our dresses.

Suddenly, a loud screeching sound pierced through the speakers. We flinched and directed our attention to a tiny stage on the other side of the gym. A girl with a sparkly pink and silver dress stood with a microphone and a guitar.

"Time to slow things down!" she announced with enthusiasm, which was met with groans of protest. Ignoring that, she began to sing Hold on by Chord Overstreet. The dance floor thinned to those who wanted to slow dance. Almost like a bell signaling him, Philip appeared with a smile wider than the one he's been sporting all night.

"Ah, you'll dance to this, huh?" Marissa teased as she took his hand and allowed him to wisp her away. Once I was alone, unease began to settle again. I considered going off to find the table Chris was probably still sitting at when Bryson and Cooper appeared.

"Group slow dance!" Cooper hooted, placing an arm around one of my shoulders, Bryson on the other. We linked together to form a small swaying circle. Bryson aggressively swung his hips side to side, making me squeal in laughter.

He slowed his movements and looked around. "Where's Chris?" he asked.

"He's sitting at a table, I think. He didn't want to dance."

"What?" Bryson broke the circle and instead began to pull us in chain formation towards where the chairs were set up. "Well, he has to dance with you at least now. He's your fucking date."

"I-it's okay," I protested, stumbling after them and their long strides. "If he doesn't want to dance then it's fine."

The boys said nothing as they scanned the tables. We found one with Marissa's and my shoes and purses on top, but Chris was nowhere to be found.

"Where the hell did he go?" Bryson said, taking his phone out from his jacket pocket. He put it to his ear.

"Why did he leave you?" Cooper added with a frown.

"I told you he didn't want to –"

"Darce!"

I whipped around. There he was, the man in question, walking towards me looking visibly upset. My heart sunk. What happened? Before I could say another word, the boys were in front of me, questions and curses being thrown his way.

"Where were you? Why did you leave Darcy?"

"Dude, don't be a shit date. Just dance with her for a bit!"

He didn't stop. He just stalked around them and towards the table. "We're leaving," he threw from over his shoulder. It was sharp and harsh. "Grab your things, Darce."

"We?" I asked, startled.

"Leaving?" pitched Bryson.

"But it's only been, like, an hour!" Cooper added in protest. He heavily placed a hand on Chris's shoulder as he said, "What the fuck is your problem?"

Whipping around so hard that Cooper's arm flung off of him, Chris spat back at him, "My problem is this dance fucking sucks and I shouldn't have come. You should've left me alone after I said I didn't want to!"

I flinched. The singer's cover of such a slow song was not as loud as the bass bumping music that was playing before. Chris's exclamation was so loud that people turned to look.

Cooper opened his mouth to retaliate, but Bryson placed a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. Chris tightened his lips.

"Darce," he said, softly this time, finally looking at me. "Please. Can we go?"

Still reeling from what just happened, it took me a moment to realize what he was asking. Before I could answer, he was already walking towards the door, saying he would wait for me outside.

"I..." I turned to watch him go. Shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets. I'd seen that posture before. He looked like pure heartbreak again.

"It's okay, Darce." Bryson handed me my shoes and my clutch. "Something must have happened. He just needs to cool down."

"I've never seen him like that," I murmured. Well, kind of. The last time I saw Chris turn into anything hostile was our little tiff in the hall. Still, that was more bitter than anger.

"That's Chris for you. When he's upset, he'll really try to cut you. Total cold knife."

The boys gave me a hug, letting me know they would tell the other two what happened and that they would see me soon. Despite our short time together, I found myself really warming up to them. They made it easy to not be afraid.

I pushed open the double doors and out into the halls. Chris was nearby, sitting with his back against a row of lockers. He didn't lift his head up from his knees until I nudged him with my heel. There was pain and guilt in his eyes.

"I'm a shitty date."

"I may not argue with that." I sat down next to him. He put his head down on his knees again. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

No answer. I sighed. Properly strapping my heels back onto my foot, I nudged him again, ordering him to get up.

"Where are we going?" he muttered, hunching over again as we walked. If he had his precious hoodie with him, he'd have a hood over his head right now.

"You'll see."

✿❀✿

Chris and I got a fair share of looks directed at us as we walked down the frozen section in the market. I get it. We were looking pretty snazzy for a trip to the grocery, but we were teens on a mission here.

"Which ones do you prefer?" I asked Chris, who trailed behind me as I walked ahead and scanned the selection of chicken fingers. Everyone has their go-to comfort food, and chicken fingers were Chris's. Always has been. At a leisurely pace, he came and took a large bag from one of the freezers before turning back around. Mentally, he wasn't with me at the moment. I let him sulk in his thoughts as we took a car back to his house with a bag of chicken fingers and a bottle of mayonnaise.

I was practically a walking icicle during the walk inside but instantly began to thaw when we got to his place. Not only did I feel physically warm from the heat, but the warm glow emitting from the twinkling Christmas lights filled me up with a whole new cozy feeling. It looked like the Radleys went all out for the holiday season. Their place was decked out in all kinds of spectacular garland, ribbons, lights, and other tacky figurine decorations. Oh, I loved this time of year.

"Camryn should be in her room, sleeping. So are my parents. We'll be quiet." He slipped his coat off and undid his bow tie. "I'm also going to change. Want something more comfortable to wear while you're here?"

"Just a hoodie or something, thanks."

I was happy to revert into ultimate comfort mode. My feet felt foreign walking on flat ground as opposed to the arch it had been in for hours.

Chris and I bustled around the kitchen as quietly as we could. We didn't say a word until we were back in his room. It was relatively simple, with dark green walls, a bed in the corner, an average Ikea desk next to it, a huge wooden dresser on one side, and an overflowing laundry basket near the closet. A small flat screen TV was mounted on the wall. Thank God there wasn't anything crazy, like posters of half-naked women. There was, however, a small anime poster on the back of his door, and a single-family photo propped on his bedside table.

"Bridgit asked me to dance." I pulled my attention back to Chris. He was sitting on the floor. The plate of chicken fingers was in front of him, still steaming hot.

I took a seat next to him. "And did you?"

"Yeah. It was during the slow dance." I felt a twinge of annoyance at this. Chris didn't so much as loosen up with us before he dismissed himself to a table.

"Go on."

"I don't know why I said yes. She just looked..." he trailed off, scratching his head really hard in frustration. "It doesn't matter. I panicked. I didn't think about it. I just said yes."

I hugged my knees to my chest, as if that would help suppress the feeling of annoyance brewing stronger. As his friend, I knew his feelings for Bridgit hadn't totally disappeared; it was a moment of weakness for him to say yes. But as his date? I'll admit, I was disappointed I didn't see him much of the night. I twirled a piece of my hair around my fingers.

"It was stupid. She just wanted to tell me that Eric said for me to stop talking to her in class. And then Eric showed up and got really pissed we were dancing, then I was angry because why would she ask me to dance when I'm supposed to stay away from her?" He huffed, again in anger. "It was a whole thing. Then I went to find you. And now I have food, so it's all okay."

I couldn't smother a scoff. "Ridiculous."

Chris, mistakenly, took a big bite out of one of the fingers, which was still too hot. He breathed in and out through his mouth, trying to cool it down. I could barely understand him when he asked, "What is?"

"Her. Him. You."

His eyes widened. "What about me?"

"Not so much you, mostly them. Eric sounds possessive and that was absolutely stupid of Bridgit. But still –" my voice dropped to a mutter "– you didn't even want to dance with me. Or any of us."

I added the last part as a half-truth, half-deflect. My cheeks burned. Chris hung his head once more. "I know. I'm sorry. It was stupid. And petty. And really shitty of me to leave you."

"It was."

"I can make it up to you."

"How?" I muttered as I took a piece of chicken for myself.

Chris stood. He rummaged through the first, second, and third drawer before he finally found what he was looking for. "Stand up," he directed, plugging what looked like to be an earphone splitter into his phone. Producing two different kinds of earphones from one of the drawers, he handed me one.

I took it, confused, but placed them in my ear nonetheless. "And what's happening here?"

"Party after hours. Silent disco edition." A funky tune began playing through the earbuds, and it took me a second to realize it was a song by The Monkees called I'm a Believer.

Laughter bubbled out of me as Chris moved his body in the stupidest ways to the music. He took my arms and swung them side to side. "C'mon! Dance with me," he coaxed, but I shook my head, still giggling. It took me an hour to even feel comfortable enough to move my hips a bit during the dance. Having a silent disco in the middle of Chris's room, in his hoodie, the smell of chicken wafting up my nose, was not part of tonight's phases.

I couldn't bring myself to dance all that much. However, I did end up sitting on his bed as I watched Chris attempt some of the viral dance moves circling around the internet. By the time he joined me, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and his entire face and neck was red out of embarrassment.

"That's enough punishment, right? I even let you take videos."

"You've been forgiven," I told him with a gleeful swipe through my camera roll. "Ah, the endless teasing content you've given me."

My shoulder drooped with the weight of Chris's forehead falling onto it. "Please don't post them."

"We'll see."

✿❀✿

Instead of being ridiculous and wasting time trying to come up with some genius starter line, I thought I'd just get going. Today is my first entry, but today I also went to my first school dance. London made me feel beautiful in my make-up, I made some new friends, went to a supermarket in heels, and goofed around with Chris at his apartment until I was dangerously close to falling asleep. We listened to many songs by The Temptations. He made up for ditching me at the dance and making me leave early.

When Chris brought me home, Papa was in bed. I crawled into bed with him, dress and all, and told him everything about tonight. We snuggled for a bit and watched an episode of Seinfield. He was really proud of me for going tonight. He's really happy.

I'm really happy, too. I can say that confidently now. That's not to say I wasn't happy before... all this? Before moving back to NY? I don't know. I was content before. But now, I feel different. I feel just really, really happy.

This year (or upcoming year, since this one's ending soon), I want to hold onto that. I don't know how or if I can, but we'll see. I'm going to document all the memories here so I will never forget. We'll try this whole journaling thing out.

K, I'm not going to spend even more time trying to figure out a genius sign-off line.

-DH

Oh, Chris also kissed me under a mistletoe as we left his apartment. Just on the forehead, when I was leaning against the front door waiting for him to put his shoes on. I had my eyes closed because I was so damn tired, so it caught me off guard. He teased me and said it wasn't the first time we've shared a kiss under a mistletoe before. I almost forgot about it, but he kissed me when I was six and he was eight.

That childhood crush I had for him may or may not be resurfacing, but I'd rather dance in front of the school than admit to him. I hope he never reads this. If you are, I un-crush you.

✦✧✦ 

writing this chapter (and in general) has been a lot of anxiety and non-existing confidence in myself and my writing. i overthink literally every word, but when i forget to be so hard on myself, i had a lot of fun writing. recently, i have realized what i want from this story. i have better direction and i really just want to get the ball rolling. hopefully this summer i'll be able to do that. 

thank you to all of you who's stuck by me and my inconsistent writing. college is a real rough time for me. now that i'm on summer break, i'm much happier though <3

i'll see you very soon.