Dear Diary...

You don't have to use the words. The painting is the prompt.

The dance was fabulous. It's past two in the morning and I really should be in bed, but I'm not the least bit sleepy. I think if I could stop the bumble bees and butterflies that are buzzing and dancing in my middle, maybe then I could sleep.  But I don't want them to stop. Who needs sleep, anyway?

Johnny was there. On leave for a whole week. Yes, Johnny... the monster who used to dip my braid in his inkpot and leave mice in my desk. Johnny, who teased me about my stutter -- back when I did stutter, which was just about anytime he was around. Johnny, who smelled bad, teased worse, and had a roguish grin that used to madden me because it made me like him when I wanted so badly to hate him.......

I'm stopping there. Don't like the rest of it. Should have just jumped to the end...

And imagine this:  I thought I despised the boy. But all I needed was the way he looked at me tonight and the things he said to realize that I've never despised him. All along, all I ever felt was a longing to love.