Er, guhdammit

Dear Diary,
in what is my eightieth post so far, I had hoped to be the
bearer of excellent news. However, things do not usually
follow your frame of thoughts. Instead, I am the harbinger
of doom.

It was a rather eventful day.
My Radar was on and functioning like a well-oiled machine.
Pearly whites.
Pearly whites, people.
The scenery was ineffable.

Then, in the confusion of the current academic tangle I am in
now I became ludicrously stressed out over every single
matter. Hyper sensitive even. You could say I was on hair-
trigger mode.

In that jumbled mess and turbulence, things got kinda out
of hand and the dormant doofus in me began to show signs
of activity. I was in a trance-like phase, where my eyes
were fixated onto the computer screen; whereas my
fingers were swiftly rapping over the keyboard.
What came out illustrated with immense clarity what I
truly felt and what I truly want * to know.
But diary, once I pressed the SEND button, a pang of
guilt shot through my body and I knew this time I think
I had gone overboard.

I had gone overboard diary,
I had frikkin gone overboard.

I cant reveal to you the content of what I wrote and sent
cuz' it's way too embarrassing for a guy of my stature
to be publicising his romance, or failed attempts to forge
romance. Either way diary, fact of the matter is, I pain-
stakingly kept awake so as to draft this few sentences of
apology TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN.

I have no intention of malice nor do I have any idea of
offending you, *.
*, I do not know how you've reacted to the message
and I'm sure that was of an unpleasant one.
Hence, I am sorry, *.

What I wrote truly reflects what I feel.
As they say, the pen IS mightier than the sword.

.ilum.