Dear Diary,

I finally did it. I won Derek’s love.

It’s not like it was a difficult thing to do. But I’m ashamed proud, nonetheless. It also doesn’t hurt that Jenna is, as Derek so lovingly puts it, “bat-shit crazy.”

Ha. Lovingly. Sort of ironic. He claims to still love her, and I suppose he does. However, I’m not entirely convinced.

Oh hell, maybe I am—so I’m going to put an end to it.

We met at a cooking class. Surprising, right? Seeing as how I hate am a really bad cook. I thought a cooking class would solve my problem.

So there I am, putting a live lobster into a boiling pot, apologizing profusely to the poor little guy, who’s cursing at me when I felt a cold hand on my shoulder that made me jump a mile high. “Need help?” a baritone voice asked me.

I turned around and stared up into eyes bluer than The Smurfs.

After silently gaping at him like an idiot, I finally found my voice. “Not as much as him,” I squeaked, gesturing to the lobster in the pot, which was now surely feeling the wrath of Hell.

We began talking, our lobsters forgotten. He told me how he was in a job he hated, living with a loved one who needed professional help. I told him I lived by myself, how I was in grad school, and didn’t need to work. He ate that shit up so fast, so easily. From the very beginning I had him pecking from the palm of my hand.

Then there’s Chris. The bastard Sweet, sweet Chris. So loving. So trusting.

I don’t really kinda feel sorry for him—sometimes. I mean, I get away with a lot I shouldn’t. If he ever read this diary, he’d kill me.

I’m not sure he’s not entirely innocent, but he does a good job of pretending to be.

He’s never I bet he’s cheated on me before. So that levels the plain—right?

I keep hearing the damn door downstairs. I realize it’s probably just Roscoe looking for food, nudging it with his gray snout, prematurely aged from the way Jenna’s been treating him. I haven’t had a chance to buy him food yet. Yeah, I probably should.

Chris is going to be furious so happy. He’s never always wanted a pit bull. And Roscoe is the cutest. When he stares up at me with those big brown eyes, round as the holes burrowed by gophers, I can’t resist. Maybe I know I can provide a better home for him than Jenna ever could.

I don’t think Derek will be proud of me. He’s always telling me how he concerned he is about Roscoe, whether Jenna will hurt him. She was surely capable of it. I’m not very almost convinced he was in harm’s way. She really loves doesn’t love him.

And let’s face it—the bitch doesn’t deserves everything she gets. I envy her. God, I hate her. Despise her. She still holds a place in Derek’s life—a place I shouldn’t only I should occupy.


Until next time,



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