Dear Diary,

  Tonight, I sit here with quill in hand, my heart both full and completely broken. I don't know how to describe what happened between Valentina and me. I've dreamed of something, anything, that would bring us closer together for so long. And it happened. It wasn't in the way I thought it would happen. Nothing like those fleeting fantasies that run through my head as I fall asleep. I don't know how I feel about it, it's a jumble of emotions – hope, fear, joy, and a deep, gnawing sadness.

  She came to my room that evening, and it was late, and I was already nervous. It was supposed to be studying, nothing out of the ordinary. However, when she came, she was different. Her smile was gentle, almost hesitant, and my heart leapt in my chest. We sat down, talked about our projects, and fell into our usual rhythm of bouncing ideas off of each other. I love that about her, how we can talk, how she seems to really care about what I have to say, even though she's so much smarter than I could ever be.

  Then, after a moment, she looked at me, and her brown eyes were softer than I had ever seen them. Her gaze was serious, her words weighed. And then, she said it. She asked me to be her first. Her first. The person she'd share… that with.

  I almost stopped breathing, dear Diary. I couldn't find words, my hands trembled. This wasn't how I imagined this moment would happen, not in my wildest dreams. She was so calm, so sure of herself, she... I was terrified. Not of her, not even the act itself. I was scared that I wouldn't be enough, that I wouldn't be what she wanted this moment to be. She didn't say she loved me. She didn't look at me the way I'd always wanted her to, as if I was someone special, someone irreplaceable. She said she trusted me. She said I was kind.

  Don't get me wrong, dear Diary, I'm flattered she would think of me in this way. I would do anything for Valentina. I've always wanted her heart, not just her trust. So when she kissed me – oh, Martyr, she kissed me – I kissed her back with everything I had. I knew deep down that I would never really have her.

  She took me to the bed, we undressed, and in those moments I could only think about how beautiful she looked. She wasn't the untouchable Valentina, the girl who is the best in the university, the girl I could never imagine being with. She was just... Val. I loved her more in that moment than I ever have before.

  It wasn't like I thought it would be. I was clumsy, unsure. She was kind and gentle, but I could see it wasn't what she really wanted. I wanted to be careful and tender with her, to make it special for her, but I could see in her eyes that something was missing. She hadn't been dreaming of me.

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  We lay there in silence afterward. She thanked me even, smiled at me. She thanked me, as if I had done her a favor. It felt wrong, Diary. I had failed her, I had given her something she wanted, but not something she needed.

  I tried to pretend everything was fine and we talked a bit. She looked... content, or maybe even relieved. There was no passion, no fire. But the reality was nothing like the fantasies I had spun in my head. I wanted to be her hero, the one who made her feel cherished, loved, but I feel like I was just... convenient. Safe.

  Will this be all I'll ever be to her? A safe option? I hate myself for wanting more than she is willing to give. She was honest to me, she said this wasn't about love for her. This was about trust, about her taking control of her own life. And I respect that. I do. But it hurts, dear Diary. It hurts so much more than I ever thought it would.

  It was awkward this morning when we sat down at breakfast. I didn't know what to say, and she avoided my eyes. We're both pretending nothing has changed, but everything has. How can I go back to being her friend, sitting beside her in lectures, studying late into the night, knowing what happened between us? Knowing that she doesn't love me the way I love her?

  I can't stop replaying the moment in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. Was it something I said? Something I did? Was I always meant to be a placeholder in her life, a stepping stone to help her along until she found the person she really wanted?

  I want to tell her how I feel. I want to tell her how much I love her, that I've always loved her. But I'm scared. I'm scared that if I say those words, I'll lose her completely. At least I still have her friendship, even if it's not everything I want. If I tell her the truth, if I bare my soul to her, what if she pushes me away? What if she can't stand to be around me after that?

  Dear Diary, I don't know what to do. I'm lost. I just wanted to be close to her, and now that I've been, I feel more distant than ever.

  If only I could turn back time, go back to when things were simpler, when I could just admire her from afar and dream of a future that would never come. I don't know how to go back now that I've had a taste of what it's like to be with her.

  The worst part is, I can still feel her. I can still feel the warmth of her skin, the softness of her lips, the way her fingers brushed against mine. I see her every time I close my eyes. She haunts me, dear Diary. She's in my thoughts, in my dreams, in every quiet moment when I'm left alone with my mind.

  What am I supposed to do now? How do I keep going when all I want to do is go back to that night and make her love me?

  I can't think straight. I have to sleep, but I know in my dreams I will see her again. I always do. Maybe, just for a moment, I can pretend that she loves me too.

  Good night, dear Diary. May the Martyr lead me through this.

  Your lonely,

  Crispin