The world will not end today because it is already tomorrow in Australia

So, here I am. I'm in love with someone I shouldn't be and it's killing me. He neither knows that I'm in love with him nor would he love me back if he did know. He's older, but then again, they're all older. My sole purpose for inventing this journal is in the hopes that one day he might stumble upon it. The funny part is, even if he did find this he would have no idea that I was writing about him. It is not one of those situations where I just can't seem to muster up the courage to tell him. I can't tell him. He is my coach, and we are both married. Not too mention, I love my husband, I really do. I'm still attracted to him and we very much enjoy each other's company. He's older too, but of course they always are.

Ice dancing lends itself to romantic fantasies easy enough already. How close can you possibly get while still doing the footwork? On my last test the judges wanted my hips to be even closer to his, closer. He devastates my body like cocaine. I only wish it was cocaine, I could make cocaine love me. But I cannot make him love me. I would be a witch if I even tried. I'm married, he's married. His wife is sick, but of course so am I.

Sometimes I feel I'm treating him as a whore. I pay him to see me. He thinks it's to coach me, which it is, but it's also to watch him and feel him hold me while we're dancing. I would cry if the whole situation wasn't so ridiculous.

I've started on the cigarettes again. Man, I almost made it a whole year without them. My, what a precious choke hold they possess. You can decide for yourself if I'm trying to be funny. Yourself? Really, as if I'm not going to be the only one to ever read this. It's just me with me with me, always. My sick and twisted delusion that anyone would read this, this dribble. What a joke. Am I just the next one to jump off the bridge? As if. But I believe I am.