May 9th, 2026
I've never kept a journal before. I guess I never really found the time. I've been so busy lately I haven't had much time for anything. I've been holding this in for a long time now, I need to get it off my chest or I'll never stop thinking about it. I suppose it's for the best. As Jack would always say, I need to, "Let it go". Which is exactly what I'm doing now. I'm letting go.
It's my fourty-nineth birthday in a couple of days. I feel so old now, I'd give anything to be in highscool again. Believe it or not but those were some of the best years of my life. You know how everybody hates their school years, well I loved mine. Infact, I can remember everything. Which is why I'm doing this. I need to write it down. He doesn't know I'm doing this, maybe it's best if he doesn't. If he knew what I was going to write about he'd have a fit. So, I'll try to keep this a secret from him. He doesn't need to know anyway, no one does. It's just something I need to do, or it'll be on my mind forever and I'll never beable to get over it once and for all. It's funny really, it feels like only yesterday that we were together. But it's been over thirty years. Time has gone by so fast, I just can't believe it. I can't believe I'm approaching fifty now. It's frightening, really, but everyone has to do it sometime.
I'm not saying I'm not happy right now. I am happy, I've got everything I could ever want in my life. But there's one thing I regret doing, just one thing. I've lost sleep over it in the past. I still get the odd bad dream about it. That's basically why I'm doing this. God, I keep repeating myself. I can't help it, it needs to be said. Otherwise I'll grow old thinking about it, and I don't want that. I don't want to lose the man I have already. We've been married almost eighteen years, and I still can't believe it. I love him, I always will, but is he the love of my life? I don't think so. I think he knows he isn't, aswell. But he doesn't say anything to me about it. I think he knows I still think about Jack, but he keeps it quiet. Maybe it's for the best that we both keep quiet about it.
I want to tell you my story. I don't know who you are and why you're reading this. You might be a close friend, or you might be someone I've known for years. You might even be my husband, and if so I'm sorry for this, but it needs to be done. Then I can try to forget. Then I can move on.
Well, moving along, I guess it all started right about the summer of '94. No, that's not right, sorry. It was just before the summer started, before school ended. My life was in complete shambles. I had no boyfriend, my friends didn't understand me and my mother wouldn't admit that her husband was an insensitive bastard. I can actually still remember the day we met. It was a Monday night, I'd been rushing home to study when it happened.. ughhh, I can still remember how embarrassed I felt over it. But he was nice, or seemed to be then. We didn't get on for a long time, but before long..
I'd better just tell the story before I start rambling.