Please don't grab at my notebook, my love. It's not just my school planner; it's my most personal journal. It's not just a diary, it's my heart and my soul, it's me you're grabbing at.
So stop now, please. I cannot let you read what it says, for to do so would be my end. It says things about you, beautiful things. I wish I could show you—no I wish that I could tell you the things that it says without you freaking out. But you wouldn't understand. And if you saw we could no longer be friends, and I don't want that.
So please, don't grab at my notebook, my love. Not even the first page, which has your name drawn in a heart. It's corny I know, but that's why you can never see. No, not the last page either, which has a badly sketched drawing of us two holding hands. No page, my love.
Please let it go. You're tearing the pages now. Don't tell me that it's just pieces of paper. It's my everything, don't you see? It's me you're tearing.
Please let go of my notebook, my love. You're destroying it now. You're throwing the pages around like they're trash. I don't care if I'm acting childish. Can't you see? You're destroying all that I have left of you.
Don't you understand? I can never let you read it because it's my love for you in word form.