Dear Beloved Diary,
10-06-1786
His golden eyes sparkle as the light of the morning star graces them with its brightness. His sandy blond hair was cleanly combed away from his face leaving more things to be desired.
As he stares through the window, his mind partly in this world and partly in memory isle, his eyes glazes over behind his glasses. What would I have done just to know what he was thinking about. What he was remembering.
His loose green clothes came in contrast with his demeanor. It gave him a look of a fun-loving person, yet no one outside his immediate family has ever seen him smile with his teeth showing.
It often passed my mind. What is he really like? Is he fun and idiotic with distaste for manners? A thug with no respect? Or is he what he's showing us: a quiet, deep-thinking boy? And if it is the latter one, does he like books or rather enjoys thinking alone? Does he like company or prefer to be on his lonesome?
So many questions drifted in and out of my mind as I studied him as he was lost in his thoughts. All of that past by in a minute and soon he looks up.
The gold eyes behind lenses met my dull black ones. I look away at once, my face gaining the color of the sweet apple. Not knowing what else to do I drifted to my own thoughts, standing beside my brother as he talked with his companion, seemingly anonymous to everyone else.
I have read thousands of books, most of which involves scenes such as this. In books, the male approaches the woman and tries to play with her emotions and yet by the end of the story they are the ones who are madly in love. Alas! This is but a book! This is real life, not at all a minor story printed on paper. There are barely any happy endings here, nor are there any exciting beginnings. So I did not bother hoping that he would notice me, let alone, recognize me.
And though I did not hope, much to my dismay, his father came to bring him home, he followed. As he left the building he passed by me, for me and my brother were by the door, but I could not bring myself to look his way, so I merely checked my watch for the time.
It was getting a bit late and our father was yet to show. I see that my brother was in still in deep conversation and so I wonder back to my thoughts.
Yes, that boy and I have met. Once, oh but if he knew that I have wondered about him long before he knew me, would things have changed? Of course they would have! He would have been horrified of me. His name, you ask? Why such a beautiful name it is.
Caleb Herondale.
I was interested long ago, though it has only been one span since I have learned his name. I have seen him every Blessed Day in Church. While everyone, including me and my brother, sung and worshiped, he remained silent and unmoving, almost as if he fell asleep upright and with opened eyes.
Though he knew my name, for sure he has not bothered to remember it, and by belief, remember me. I think about him. Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. Saturday. Then finally, Sunday comes and I get to study him once more.
Sadly, after a few hours we must depart. And the cycle repeats. Each week with more anticipation. There was no doubt in my mind that he didn't do the same, for I am no catch to the eyes. Most people refer to me as an open book, no secrets to hide, no dark past to be hidden. No one would take interest.
But Caleb was--pardon, I meant to say is--is the perfect person to keep you thinking. Most people refer to him as Leonardo Da'Vinchi's most recent piece of art. The most beautiful face you would ever see and yet everything might not be what it is. Only a handful of people would be knowledgable about him.
I truly await the next time that I would see him.
Oh dear, Oh my!
Oh heart so troubled!
Listen to my mind and please follow!
Stop running on dreams that are yet to be doubled...
Yours forever,
Jasmine Hajima.
Dear Beloved Diary,
10-07-1786
The pages of the book I held felt rough against my fingers, though they did not do anything to help me focus. This is how it it is every Monday, like I have said many times before, it is not uncommon for me to wonder about that boy. How he never seems to show much emotion, or how he stays silent in the midst of the mix of several other voices.
My mind flew away as I stared blankly at the book in my hand. I have not understood a single word from this page, even though I have been reading it for the past two hours. My mind was, as it always was, with him, my beloved Caleb.
It was not that I found him to my liking. Sure, he wore a dashing face that would turn heads as soon as he enters a room, but it was the way he carried himself that hooked me into interest. The way those golden eyes seem to stare into space and stay there till' the end of eternity.
Is too much to ask for one short exchange of words with him? Perhaps, for him, it is. Aside from never seeing him smile, he has barely spoke to anyone. I have only heard him once, when we were introduced.
I remember it clearly, why would I forget? I have respectfully bowed and so did he. We exchanged a greeting as our host, my brother's dear friend, told one name then the other.
It was a short moment and it flew by faster than an ox being whipped at its back. After that said encounter we were yet to talk again.
A loud slam went through my chamber and the sound of metal against stone clanged and sliced away at the silence. At the entrance of my chamber stood a boy of familiarity. His dark hair curled by his temples and somehow mimicked the way mine did. His eyes were the color of coals, such as mine, though his seemed to sparkle with dark glee that came across a brother's face when he enjoys teasing his siblings.
"What use do you have for me, dear brother?" I ask, my tone sharper than I have meant it to be. Dismay crossed his face but he covers it with a mask of a smiling wolf.
He ignores my glares and slides towards the chair opposite to me which he later slumps into. A small side-ward smile grew on his face and I knew for sure that he has hidden something.
I stood up from my chair, ruffling my dress, I opened my mouth to speak but my brother had beaten me to words.
"Your beloved area of study is waiting by the fire set" he said with a sly smile. It took only a minute for the words to enter my mind and when they have passed...
"Oh my heavens!" I shouted in surprise and in one big hurry, I rushed down the stairs, eager for a chance of studying my Caleb again.
Oh dear, Oh my!
Oh heart so troubled!
Listen to my mind and please follow!
Stop the giddiness from being bubbled...
Yours forever,
Jasmine Hajima.
Hey Mimiko! Welcome to YWS.
These four paragraphs can be combined into two. The first one can be a physical description. You can talk about his eyes, his clothes, his teeth, and get it over with all at once.
The second one can be about how curious she is about him. That's where you put "I wonder what he is thinking, what he's like, does he like parcheesi, etc." Remember that questions should have question marks paired with them.
I think you should split up the passages with a physical divider. My personal favorite is a bunch of asterisks.
***************
See how nicely that divides?
It seems like you broke away from the diary format here, so you might want to clarify this part.
Overall, I thought it was very cute as far as studies go.
Well I must say I did enjoy this a lot. To be honest when I first started reading it I thought hmm... another one of those stories. Surprisingly though I feel this character has something a bit special. I did place myself in her shoes because sometimes I do act the way she does, and I am now very interested in the Caleb. Especially because a Caleb I know is very wild, outgoing, and a bit reckless. I also like the "poetry" you have at the end it's a nice element and I really love things that rhyme. I'm an auditory learner so having that at the end made me enjoy it more. I would say it is well written and do not try to embellish to much because it can be distracting. Good job!