Is Love Drizzling like So?

我也不知道写什么，第一次吗，不打算写多有深度的文字。做一篇日记。

I think I’m in love, an unrequited, fruitless and yet long-aspiring kind, for he certainly is deepened with a belief, engendered through my stupidity over the past months, that I am strange. Who is him? I have the least facts familiar to his name. Exactness, terseness, and clearness wanted, that of my matter, associating with him, I fear explanation really runs bad. Does he wrap himself up with feelings more or less the same with mine, «A-t-il mis en place une façade qu'il m'a inaperçue pour le temps passé?» I would not know. Alienation took us apart out of blue, and it is really discouraging.

I chanced upon a figure today that shares resemblance to him within inadvertence of skimming seconds when I found ambiguity in comparison and recollected him plus tard. I feel the feeling with its origin from the visceral heart longing for a sense of belonging—heart, his. Was him him? I would not know either.

So much of a dramatisation he enchants me to the effect that the centre of a tragicomedy I might compose, in which he who harps my soul is the fair summer while I am to coo and woo.

I still could not understand how come we barely say a hello.

Jan 26, 2021