May 14 “Everything is Changing”

Dear Diary,

Everything feels different now.

Not loud-different.

Not movie-scene, fireworks-in-the-sky different.

Just… shifted. Like my world tilted a few degrees, and I'm still figuring out how to walk straight again.

Ever since he kissed me — since we kissed — I haven't been able to stop thinking about it.

The way his hand fit around mine.

The stillness in his breath before we leaned in.

The softness. The patience. The way his lips lingered like he was afraid of waking me.

But I wasn't asleep.

I was more awake than I've ever been.

And now…

Now I feel everything too much.

Like someone turned the volume up on my senses and forgot to lower it back down.

1:04 PM

I haven't told Chae-Sun yet.

Not because I'm hiding it. But because I don't want anyone else to speak it aloud before I've had time to make sense of it myself.

Because this is delicate.

A new kind of delicate.

Not fragile like something broken.

But fragile like something sacred.

Like the kind of glass you don't wrap in paper — you carry it in your hands and walk slowly, carefully, because you know it's meant to be whole.

That's what this feels like.

Being held gently.

And not just by him.

By this feeling.

By the hope I didn't know I still had.

3:08 PM

He texted this morning.

Jung-Kyo: "Still glowing?"

Me: "Like a lightbulb on a dimmer switch."

Him: "That sounds like you're in denial."

Me: "That sounds like a personal attack."

Him: "You're blushing just typing this, aren't you?"

He's not wrong.

But I didn't admit it.

Because how do I put into words the way my entire chest feels lighter — and heavier — at the same time?

How do I explain that I keep catching myself smiling for no reason, and then immediately panicking because what if this doesn't last?

What if I lose him?

What if I lose this?

3:42 PM

I walked to the river by myself today.

Same bench where we sat a week ago.

The sun was warm, but not hot. The breeze kept lifting my hair just enough to remind me I was real.

I sat there for over an hour.

Didn't write.

Didn't read.

Just felt.

And Diary, it hit me then — like a sudden inhale:

I'm not just falling.

I've already fallen.

Somewhere between his quiet texts and his protective stillness and the way he listens when I say nothing at all, my heart stopped waiting for permission.

It's already his.

4:27 PM

And that terrifies me.

Not because he's done anything wrong.

But because everything is changing, and I don't know how to stop being scared of what happens next.

I keep asking myself questions I can't answer.

What if he gets bored?

What if I mess it up?

What if I'm too much?

What if I'm not enough?

It's exhausting — to feel this much and not know where to put it.

I'm used to feeling alone in my emotions.

Used to holding my own hand through the storm.

But now there's someone beside me.

Someone who sees it all.

And still stays.

And maybe that's what scares me most.

Because if he leaves…

It'll hurt in a way I've never let myself imagine.

6:03 PM

He called me after work.

I was lying on the floor of my bedroom, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he was thinking about me.

Then the phone rang.

Like the universe heard the question and gave me an answer.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," he echoed. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

He chuckled. "That sounds dangerous."

"It is."

He paused. "Want to tell me about it?"

I didn't.

But I did.

Because with him, even the scariest thoughts feel like they're allowed to exist.

"I'm scared," I said. "That this feeling is too big for me. That I'm not built to carry something this good."

There was a pause on the other end.

Then:

"You don't have to carry it alone."

And just like that…

My eyes filled with tears.

Not from sadness.

But from relief.

Because I've waited so long to hear those words.

To believe them.

6:49 PM

He came over later.

Didn't bring anything.

Didn't even knock with urgency.

Just… showed up.

And I let him in.

No makeup. Slippers. Baggy hoodie.

He said, "You look like home."

And I laughed until I almost cried.

7:21 PM

We sat on the couch.

No movie this time.

Just music playing low.

My head on his shoulder. His hand tracing soft circles into the back of mine.

I told him I still don't know how to relax.

He said, "That's okay. I'll remind you."

I asked if he was scared too.

He said, "All the time."

"But you don't show it."

"I do. You just don't think fear can look calm."

That sentence stuck with me.

Because he's right.

Sometimes fear is stillness.

Sometimes it's staying, even when you're not sure how it will end.

8:13 PM

He kissed me again.

Softer this time.

Like a secret.

Like a habit.

And I let myself melt into it.

Not just because it felt good.

But because it felt true.

Like something we didn't have to explain anymore.

Like we were speaking a language we'd already learned by accident.

9:05 PM

He left before it got too late.

Said he wanted me to sleep.

Said he'd call in the morning.

And I believe him.

Not because I want to.

But because I do.

Because he hasn't given me a single reason not to.

And for someone like me — someone who flinches at goodness, someone who double-checks every joy like it's a trap…

That means everything.

10:11 PM

So yes, Diary.

Everything is changing.

The way I look at him.

The way I look at myself.

The way I wake up and check my phone for his name, not because I'm afraid it won't be there — but because it always is.

This isn't just love growing.

It's fear unraveling.

And I don't know how long we'll get.

Or where this leads.

But tonight, I'm choosing to believe in it.

Not because I'm sure.

But because I'm free.

– Mi-Chan