Monday 15th February

With the Valentine's Day came up the great question of confessing. Maybe it would solve everything - after all, if I ever had problem with Merida, talking it out always helped.

But Jack wasn't Merida and we didn't have a "problem". I was in love with him and he wasn't in love with me.

Or was he?

I rolled the idea back and forth in my head on the way from school. What if I wrote him a poem? Something like:

"You lay,

your eyes closed,

and look like the softest evening snowfall."

No, I chuckled. When was even the last time I saw him with his eyes closed? Oh right, on the train with Hiccup and Mer. Needless to say he really looked like a gentle snowfall. So calm and peaceful and... well, I could go on like this forever. It was also soon after he called me Moneypenny with that smile of his. I blushed at the memory.

And then turned immediately pale white. I saw Jack walking into a building across the street. THE building. With pro's dancing training and her and dancing.

Did I mention dancing?

Merida was already waiting for me when I stormed to my front door. We planned a study party, but Mer insisted we talk first when she saw how not okay I was.

I made us a cup of hot chocolate and she sat me down in the living room like a five-year-old. I interpreted my thoughts and what happened, she took a contemplative sip and then told me: "If seeing him walking into that building makes you like this, do yourself a favour and imagine what it would be like to date him in reality."

I stared at her, trying to understand whatever it was she just asked me to do. She didn't seem to be joking, so I did what she said.

At first I saw us laying on the grass, relaxing and daydreaming. Then we were cooking in my kitchen, swinging to the cheery sound of oldies. Enjoying the warmth of the fireplace at his house in Burgess after a long day out. Falling asleep snuggling up and waking up next to each other. Breakfasts in the bed, morning coffee talks, strolling in the park, going to the cinema (and stealing the popcorn), Jack getting whiny when he has a lot to study, him listing through my sketchbooks with that "proud of you" smile, him insisting we go ice skating, me gently kissing him when he gets home dead tired from training...

The training. Was that what Merida was trying to imply?

How would I cope with that? I am generally not a very jealous person, but having it smashed to my face good four times a week? Would we argue about it? A lot? Does the training destine the relationship to an end before its start?

I sighed. With the way I reacted at the moment, there was no way I could date him and not lose my mind.

In an ideal world, it would work. In this world, thins go in a different way, and in this world, friends will have to do. But friends is also more than I hoped for when I first saw him at the get-to-know-you camp, standing in the rain in that blue hoodie of his.

And as long as we're friends, I'm happy.

..

This realisation brought incredible peace of mind, to my surprise. Days were slowly becoming longer, waking up was nicer and falling asleep easier. Things I used to do to prevent thinking I started to do simply because I enjoyed them. I sew, I planted chamomile and I got back to my old habit of singing my lungs off while keeping my house spotless. I spent more time with my everyday yoga routine and I was so full of energy that I did all that with ease. Keeping up with schoolwork didn't seem so overwhelming. I stopped my excessive baking binges. I spent more time with friends, and actually, I even became more talkative towards Jack again (no matter how odd that might sound.)

In short, I felt great. Of course I still had to make sure not to think about certain things and revive certain memories, but even if I did, it wasn't so paralyzing. I knew this pain will take long to get rid of so I was happy for any kind of progress. I felt control again, and I was free.

I am not at all done with this. AT ALL. Please don't freak out.