Exams went alright. I’ve had a traumatic night. Well, at any rate, Andrew told me he loved me and was being too sweet to me. Journal, I told him I loved him too. IDK. I mean, I think I do. But that word LOVE seems so serious. It seems like it’s for boring adults who sit at home drinking whiskey and investing in the stalk [sic] market. Or for people who jump off cliffs and mountains, and shout it as they plunge to the cold, hard earth. Love isn’t for 13 year old kids in the suburbs. Love is more than sex, and phone conversations, and a little laughter. Love is deeper than that. Uh - but what is love, truly? How the fuck do I get myself into these things? Do you think I really love Andrew? Do you think he loves me?
I really do not know…