Dear Diary,

Today is a Sunday. As on every Sunday, I woke up with a sweet joy of anticipation of meeting him. Every Sunday morning brings a smile to my face and every Sunday night is a mixed bag of feelings. If he does visit, then it’s the feeling of contentment; if not, it’s still a feeling of the hopefulness of meeting next Sunday. Either way, I always end up with an intense, waiting, longing, and then joyful or disappointed Sunday every week depending on whether he decides to visit me or not.