A Face in the Crowd

March 30, 2025

Dear Diary,

I am definitely not used to write journals for myself. But Anisha said that it helped her when she was going through THAT period. So hear am I.

This sure is weird.

I don’t even know why I’m doing this. People who write diaries are either deeply poetic, deeply troubled, or the main characters in books where they magically find love and adventure. I am none of those things. I am just… me.

I’m not ugly, but I’m not the kind of girl people write love songs about either. I’m not mysterious or alluring. I’m just the girl people sit next to when their friend isn’t in class. The one teachers love because she actually does the homework. The one who gets asked, “Wait, we had an assignment?” five minutes before the deadline. Always the friend but never the bestie. Yeah, people like us do exist outside a sitcom. And we like being boring.

But here’s the thing—my life? It’s weirdly interesting. Not me, specifically. I am as normal as a math textbook. But the things happening around me? Straight out of one of those absurd K-dramas where the unpopular girl somehow ends up catching the eye of the chaebol heir (though I don't think that my crush is a secret CEO or something).

Let’s take today, for example.

A guy—an actual, real-life, human male—said my name today. Not to ask for notes, not to confirm I exist, but just… said it. Like I was an actual person worth addressing. Okay, fine, maybe it was because he almost ran into me while scrolling on his phone, and it was more like a “Oh—uh, hey, Rashii” But still. Progress.

Also, my neighbor might be a secret millionaire. Or a criminal. Or both. He keeps leaving the house in suspiciously expensive-looking suits but lives in an apartment where the elevator barely works. I’m currently debating whether this is a situation that needs further investigation or if I’ve just watched too many detective dramas.

And then there’s my best (and only) friend, who has recently decided that my life is a “romance waiting to happen.” I told her that the only romantic thing that happened to me today was walking past a bakery and inhaling the scent of fresh cinnamon rolls. She wasn’t impressed. But she insists that something is about to happen.

Speaking of my friend, she is fully convinced I’m being set up for a love triangle. A love triangle, Diary. As if. Her reasoning? The mystery neighbor. She caught me looking out my window yesterday because I was trying to see if he was going to leave in another one of his suspiciously expensive suits, and now she thinks I have a crush on him.

I tried to explain that I was just being nosy, but she wasn’t buying it. She said, “First, the mysterious rich guy. Now, a classmate showing ‘concern.’ The signs are all there.”

The signs of what?! A conspiracy? A prank show? My slow descent into delusional thinking?

Sigh. I don’t know, Diary. Maybe she’s right, and something is happening. Or maybe I just need to get more sleep and stop staring at my neighbor like a detective in a crime drama.

See? My life is awkward. I am awkward. But the world around me? Chaotic. And if I don’t write it all down, who else is going to believe that the nerdy, invisible girl is actually living in a sitcom?

Until tomorrow,

The Most Normal Girl in the World

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