So the point of this is that there diary entries by Logan, as if they are letters to Carlos.

Dear Carlos,

I mean Diary.

You are not Carlos.

You are just a stupid Diary.

But I wish you could be him.

And I wish he could be you.

I wish he could listen to me and not say anything as you do.

But that is not reality, that is not possible. But I will pretend anyways.

Dear Carlos,

I hate you.

I hate you so much.

I hate you so much all I want to see is for you to cry, cry like the way you made me cry.

And you may ask yourself, what have you don't to me?

We are friends.

We are best friends.

I was always there for you, what have I done wrong, that is what you will say to me.

And very slowly I will look at you, and I will smile, but it will not be a nice smile, it will be cold, it will not reach my eyes, the smile will come right up from the most broken part of my heart, and it will glare at you, try to hurt you, and it will hate you, but love you, just as I do.

Because the truth is, I love you. I love you so much that it kills me inside.

Maybe I was too late

Maybe it is unfair for me to hate you, because how could you have known how I felt.

We are friends.

We talk all day.

We laugh all day.

We be friends all day long, we make jokes and tease each other.

I am insecure, and you know this, because I have hinted at it many times.

And each time I do you make me laugh it off, you heal me, you bring the conversation to something else, something you know will make me laugh; will make me smile, because you know me. And I know you.

Or at least I thought I knew you, I feel as if you have betrayed me, we laugh as always, we talk as always, and next thing I know. She comes in. Her.

She's sweet

She nice

She's beautiful

And she makes you happy.

She's everything that I wish I was.

She's everything that I could make you feel.

While we talk, you text her, and I feel as I am the third wheel, which is ridiculous, she's not even there, but she is there, lovely sweet her, making you so happy, and just me as a friend, filling up some of your time while she is not there.

Suddenly you tell me how long you've been together.

Months.

A few months.

Months and you have not told me, me who's supposed to be your best friend, of course I've seen you text bluntly recently, sure I have noticed that you have been more busy, of course I have noticed we seem to spend less and less time together, but I never thought.

I tell myself, we have been friends longer than a few months, we have been friends for years, I have known you for years, but I have only known you as a friend, and she has known you in ways I can only dream about.

And it hurts.

It hurts more than I could ever hope to explain to you.

But I keep quiet.

When you guys are together I will myself to blend into the shadows, keep a smile on my face, and act as if your relationship warms my heart, makes me happy, and maybe it does. I may be happy because you are happy, even though I am not the one making you happy.

So I keep quiet while you are happy

Because even though I hate you for doing this to me

I love you so much more.

Writing this because love sucks and it hurts. I'm not sure if this will just remain a one-shot; tell me if you want more diary entries from Logan to Carlos.

Lots of Love,

Because you guys are the only ones who I have ever loved who have never hurt me,

Sarah