I just have to present two excerpts from two coincidentally consecutive but randomly plucked diaries (I was 20 at the time, so they don't count as teenage entries).
From 4/29/1995:
Niki, though, is my girl She's probably my most favorite person in the world. We're so close and when we're together we're so much fun. We just keep saying how great the other is and how we love each other so much. I didn't really want to have to share her, she's my best friend like that.
That sounds a little psycho possessive to the outsider, but I assure you it wasn't like that in general, just the specific context. What struck me about this passage was my clear-eyed acknowledgment of my love for this woman, five or six years into our friendship, when we were living hundreds of miles apart. The feeling never, ever changed for me, and it puts right out there exactly why I can't seem to get over losing her. I've been lucky to have a handful of very close and wonderful friends in my life, but Niki was always my shining star. It's comforting to me to have evidence that I was cognizant of it in the moment.
Now exactly one month later, 5/29/1995, regarding Mike, one of my new housemates at the time:
I love that guy. He's so funny and cute and likes all the same stuff as me, so much that it's scary. He might just be my soul mate.
Kreskin, ladies and gentlemen.
Maybe I really should start keeping a diary again.
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