Author's Note: First I apolgoize I know most of you are disappointed to see that this is a different fic rather than an update on one of my various other stories. I couldn't sleep and wrote this at one in the morning so hopefully it makes some kind of sense. There isn't a definite point in which this story takes place, anytime after makes confession to Sturgis I guess. I wasn't sure how to classify this story so I put romance because it might turn out to be depending on the reviews I'll continue this story, it can stand alone if need be.
The Little Black Book
I went out to Barnes and Noble today looking for some leisure reading books. As I was standing in line something caught my eye so I stepped out and walked towards it. It was a whole wall of journals, address books, and photo albums. I don't really know what drew me to the wall, so I stood there merely staring at the shelves. I probably looked like an idiot but then again people sit in between rows of books and read unpurchased literature so maybe I didn't look to odd. However, it wasn't like I was starring at rows of books, these were empty books with blank pages just waiting to be filled with your deepest secrets, desired photos, and longing numbers. A journal is like a piece of nonfiction if you think about it, you write down actual accounts of actual events that have taken place in your life. However, on that same note it could also very well be fiction too, after all it also holds are most treasured desires and utmost fantasies. Journals will never have an ending, they mimic life because it is life in it's rawest human form.
I continued to stand there staring at the different covers, each one saying something different about the owner. There was one that looked natural with leaves on it for an earthy person, another with wild flowers. I gazed at the twenty or so covers until something caught my eye again, it was on the far left side of the shelf next to a Zen looking journal. It was plain and simple at first glance; looking deeper it appeared to be elegant and classic. It was a simple little black book with blank lined pages screaming to be filled. I decided that I needed to buy this little empty book.
I laughed at myself I came to a bookstore to buy some books, not empty pages but I suppose stranger things have happened. I came home later that evening to an empty apartment, as usual, placed by purchases on the table and began to put things away. I had gone to Linen's and Things to buy some new dish towels for the kitchen. I pulled out my books and took them to my room. Which one to read first….I sat an pondered for awhile trying to decide between three great novels, even though I'll read them all at once I need one to get me going. I placed them on the bed and changed into some more comfortable clothing. When I came back I still hadn't made up my mind, then my eyes feel upon the one book I couldn't read but had to be read to. I picked it up and flipped through the empty pages, grabbed it walked to the kitchen for a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cookie Dough ice cream. I sat down at the couch and placed the book on the cough table, picked up the remote and turned the television on hoping to find something good on, perhaps a sappy romantic movie. I dug into my ice cream like no tomorrow. I could feel the book staring at me, I know it can't really do that but it felt like it needed me to begin filling the pages, with my life my story. I had no idea where to start, so I ignored it and went back to clicker magic. I finished my pint, was left disappointed by only catching the end of When Harry Met Sally, and the book still sat there. I walked to the kitchen and put the empty pint into the trash can and placed the spoon in the dishwasher. It was getting late and I figured I should probably hit the sack, I turned off the television, and picked up the book.
But as soon as I did it was like all the white noise in my life had been turned off for once I could think clearly. I still didn't know where to start, but knew that I could. I knew that I had things that I needed to say, things that resided in my heart and in my head that needed to get out. Nothing may come from this little book of mine, but there is a chance that endless possibilities will come of it. For once in my life I am taking a risk, an emotional risk. I have been putting my life in danger many times, that's what Marines do and do best, but physical risk is not the same as emotional. In my world an emotional risk could send me broken and back to the bottle, I'd like to think that I am stronger than that, but needless to say it is still a possibility. This may not seem like much of any kind of risk, but it is me opening up like this even to a book. It is forcing me to say what my heart is really wanting and why my head is saying that I can't have it. I started out simple, not knowing how to begin I figured well can't really start at the beginning because I'm not at the beginning of anything in life right now. I am however in the middle, in the middle of my career, age, and most of all in the middle of my feelings towards the love of my life. To speak or not to speak that is the question.
I'm so confused when it comes to him that have the time I am mad at him or hopeless in love with him, thus middle of the road and still lost as to whether or not I should divulge any of this information to the defense. Perhaps lost is not the best word choice, I know what I need to do and what I should do, I've know all along but have been unable to take that emotional risk. Hopefully with time I can over come this obstacle of mine, before it's too late. I have seen the way other women look at him, he would be a wonderful catch for any woman. I pray that he can just wait a little while longer, I promise I won't take an eternity. Ah, eternity that brings back harsh memories from Sydney. I don't think he meant it to hurt as much as it did, he may not have actually been rejecting me at all, but it still felt like a thousand knife points being stabbed into my heart. However, he did say he only acted like this with me, maybe that was meant to be a compliment who knows. All I know is that I love this man, but the only person in the world that knows about it isn't him. I barely even know myself, but now I have it here in writing against my will or not. Well I am proud of myself I have filled up 3 pages of this here little book already, it has taken on life and unburdened me of thoughts and feelings. Well at least it is cheaper than paying for a therapist that will be noted on your file and hinder advancement. So I guess this is all I can handle for on night, confessing to love a person can really wear you out, not the kind of confessing or wearing out I'd like but needless to say it is a fresh start and a new beginning…