Journal Entry #11

Dear Diary, 

I find myself standing at the crossroads of curiosity and uncertainty. It's like I've stumbled into a maze of mixed signals, and I'm not quite sure which path to follow.

Here's the scoop—Mr. Dreamboat, you remember, my acting teacher, might be flirting with me. Yes, Diary, Mr. Dreamboat, the charming and captivating presence who lights up the classroom with his passion for the craft.

It started with those little moments, those lingering gazes and subtle touches that seemed to carry a hint of something more. And today, during our one-on-one feedback session, he leaned in a little closer than necessary, his eyes sparkling with warmth and intensity. His hand rested on my knee as he spoke softly in my ear. 

I had to admit, that I felt tingly all over. I found myself drawn to him, Diary, like a moth to a flame. There's something magnetic about his presence, something that stirs a fire within me. And as much as I try to brush it off as mere imagination, a part of me can't help but wonder if there's something deeper brewing beneath the surface.

I know, I know, he's my teacher, and some boundaries shouldn't be crossed. But the heart wants what it wants, Diary, and mine seems to be whispering his name in hushed tones.

Fluffington (my bed) feels like a sanctuary tonight, as I lay here pondering the twists and turns of fate. I don't know what I should do. What would it be like if Mr. Dreamboat joined me on Fluffington (my bed). Ahhh! Diary! I’m so naughty!

Wawchan