MY DIARY

December 27, 2024

Today, I caught myself lost in her memory again. Selena. Even saying her name in my mind feels like a prayer, like something holy I don’t deserve to speak aloud. It’s been years since I’ve seen her face, but I swear I could still sketch her smile from memory, the way it tugged a little higher on the left side. That smile—it was my first addiction, long before the streets swallowed me whole.

We met in high school, in the kind of way that feels scripted, like the universe planned it. I was sitting on the edge of the football bleachers, pretending to be cool, and there she was, this whirlwind of light and life. She dropped her books in front of me, and I joked that she’d done it just to get my attention. She laughed, a sound that felt like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, and she said, “Maybe I did.” That was Selena—bold, beautiful, unafraid.

God, she believed in me when I couldn’t even believe in myself. She used to say I had potential, that I could be something more than just another kid from the block trying to hustle his way through life. She saw something in me, something I was too blind or too stubborn to see for myself. And instead of rising to meet her faith in me, I let her down. Over and over again.

I think about the nights we’d sit on her porch, the air thick with summer heat, and she’d tell me about her dreams—college, traveling, building a life that mattered. I wanted to give her all of that, but instead, I dragged her into my chaos. I let my anger, my fear, and my pride pull me away from her and the man I should have been.

She deserved a man who could match her fire, who could lift her up instead of weighing her down. And what did I do? I let her walk away, because deep down, I knew I wasn’t enough. Not for her. Not for anyone.

Sitting here now, behind these bars, I see it so clearly. She wasn’t just my first love; she was my chance at redemption, at being better. And I threw it all away.

But even now, when I close my eyes at night, I see her. I see the way her hair caught the sunlight, the way her hand felt in mine, soft but strong. I hear her voice, telling me that I could be more. And it hurts like hell, but it also keeps me going.

I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. I don’t know if she’d even want to see me after everything. But I hope she’s happy. I hope she’s living that life she used to dream about on those porch nights. And maybe, just maybe, she thinks of me sometimes, not with anger or regret, but with the tiniest shred of the love we once had.

For now, that hope is all I have. That, and the memory of the girl who showed me what it meant to be alive.

Selena, if somehow you ever read this, I’m sorry. For everything. You deserved so much more. You deserved the man I should have been.

Yours always,

Your Lovebug