March 16, 1999.

Dear Diary,

The moment I saw Donna, my heart started to pound. It's a strange, almost extraneous sensation, given that I haven't been much in touch with my intimate, more emotional side lately.

We met at the cafeteria, near the large red brick building, known here on campus as the "Haunted Library." It was almost by chance, and I say almost because I have a hard time believing that things happen out of coincidence. It might have been one of those rare occasions, but our encounter, at least as it stays in my mind, remains a memorable, pleasant touch of God.

Donna is an exceptional girl. I know this already, even though we have known each other for such a short period of time. But I guess it's just the little things, the details, if you will: the way she held my hand while showing me her latest chemistry term paper, the softness of her walking and the confidence of her smile. These are all pieces of a puzzle in my mind; a puzzle I'm just beginning to put together, to understand.

Donna is tall, almost as tall as I am, which makes me a little uncomfortable sometimes. She also writes and, although majoring in chemical engineering, Donna seems to be quite acquainted with modern poetry, which I happen to be not only extremely fond of, but also studying very hard lately. We spoke about Frost, Auden, Dickenson and, of course, Eliot. She was very advanced in her knowledge of the subjects and, without letting my modesty trick me, almost as versed on those authors as I am.

So I guess that April is indeed the cruelest month, for that will be the month when she will be going home on a special leave. She says she will come back soon and make up for lost time during summer school, which I'll also be attending given my precarious situation with English grades and my needing to work to save some bucks for the purchase of a new computer next fall.

She's going home to Minneapolis to stay with her mother, who will have to undergo a knee surgery due to a long-fractured and never-fully-healed bone. First I thought she was trying to run away from me, but now I have been feeling a little more at ease, and the idea has settled in my mind more smoothly now.

I've been afraid to say or even to think about this, but I'll entrust you that my feelings for her have grown passionate and exponentially over the last few weeks. I still don't know if it's love, but it's certainly much more than the frail feelings my heart had been longing for the past semester. I just hope she feels the same, and that April flies by as fast as a spring breeze.

-- Mark Frost

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