Page 10 of Already Falling

Dear Diary,

Reid said my shirt looked cool today.

Love, Anni

Sixth Grade - July

Dear Diary,

Chloe is staying with us tonight. I think my mom said she’s staying tomorrow too. Chloe is brushing her teeth while I write here. I wish she could stay at our house all the time. I wish she was my real sister, not just my best friend. She makes me want to be brave like her. I never see her sad when her parents argue. I would be sad if mine argued like hers. Although I wouldn’t be sad if I got to sleep over at my best friend’s house.

I told Chloe about my crush on Reid tonight, and she said, “DUH!” I hope not everyone knows about my crush! Only you and my mom know. Well, now Chloe knows she better not spill the beans. Oh, I think she’s done brushing her teeth. Bye diary

Love, Anni

Seventh Grade - February

I <3 Reid Parker I <3 Reid Parker I <3 Reid Parker I <3 Reid ParkerI <3 Reid Parker I <3 Reid ParkerI <3 Reid Parker I <3 Reid ParkerI <3 Reid Parker I <3 Reid ParkerI <3 Reid Parker I <3 Reid ParkerI <3 Reid Parker I <3 Reid Parker

I have probably twenty entries about all the times Reid made my heart skip a beat. I grab a pen from my drawer and start writing a new entry.

Seventh Grade - May

Dear Diary,

My heart broke today. I didn’t know if I was in love, but the way my chest aches now is proof enough. I loved a boy and never told him. I wish I could go back in time. He’s gone. He didn’t even say goodbye. He could’ve told me. How did Steven find out!? Colorado? That’s not even in the same time zone. I don’t know if I’ll be able to recover. I just want to cry for the rest of my life.

Unloved,

Annika

I never want to be reminded of this heartbreak ever again. I slam the diary shut and shove the postcard I was supposed to give him inside. I tuck it under my arm and run to the side yard and throw it right in the big trash can. Garbage day is tomorrow, and it will collect all the pieces of my heart with it. I’m clearly not meant to fall in love.

I head back to my room and close the door, sulking for about another hour until Chloe storms into my room with an arm full of DVDs and a giant bag of kettle corn. We sit on my bed in my room, binge-watching cheesy rom-coms and eating popcorn while she listens to me complain about all the love scenes. She doesn’t even mention the boy I once loved at all, which I’m happy about. I don’t want to think about him. During the third movie, I’m sitting on the floor, and she’s braiding my hair while I cry at the part where the couple lives happily ever after.

I watch as the couple runs to each other, kissing in the rain. It makes me sick. As the credits roll up the screen, I vow to never fall in love. Ever. Again

PART 2

COLLEGE

FIVE

ANNIKA

I glare at a piece of hair that refuses to brush down with the rest of my shoulder-length black hair. Of course, my hair chooses eight a.m. on a Monday to be temperamental. Thankfully our suite mates don’t have class until later in the day, so I can take my time getting ready. Mine and Chloe’s dorm room share a bathroom with two other girls. They are nice, but I rarely ever see them. To be fair I don’t really make an effort either. Probably because I wake up earlier than everyone else just so I can have our small bathroom all to myself. It’s a process to look this cool and confident so no one realizes I’m second-guessing every decision I make.

I decide water is going to be the only thing that can tame this beast of a head of hair. So I gracefully shove my hair under the faucet and fish out Chloe’s blow dryer from under the sink that her mom gave her as a graduation gift. She rarely uses it because she says it changes her “natural wave.” The other suite mates and I use it more often than Chloe thinks about it.

Working meticulously, I tame the strand of hair that is trying to make me look like Alfalfa from The Little Rascals and flip the ends of my hair out so they land on my shoulders. Satisfied with the result, I move on to makeup, which these days is pretty simple. I cannot be bothered to go all out with blending eyeshadow and contour as I did in high school when all I do is sit through day-long lectures. I dab a bit of concealer under my eyes, a few swipes of my eyebrow pencil to define the ends, and a swoosh of mascara, which I stab the wand in my eyeball at least once a week. Before I duck out of the bathroom, I snap a few mirror selfies that I tell myself to post on my socials but probably won’t.

Tip-toeing out of the bathroom, I see Chloe is still in her bed, curled up with her comforter swirled around her like a nest. When we learned we could dorm together at UC San Diego, we squealed so loud I’m pretty sure my mom’s hearing hasn’t been the same since. I cannot imagine going through college, let alone life, with anyone else by my side. Chloe and I have always been there for each other.

We are both marketing majors, even though neither of us is certain what we want to do with our lives. I mean, does anyone even know what they want to do? Even if I did know what I wanted to do, how do I know I’m going to want to stick with that forever? It’s too much pressure.

If Chloe had her way, she’d probably ditch all pleasantries and become a beach bum, reading books all day, painting strangers' portraits for cash, and couch-surfing her way through life. Yet here we are, both pretending to live a life we think we are supposed to live.

I don’t dislike marketing, per se. I think it is all helpful information to learn, and if anything, I can use what I learn to be an influencer or publicist. It’s just each time I have to get ready for class, this cloud of dread looms over me. Like my subconscious is telling me it’s not really what I’m meant to do.