It’s too much and not to mention too wrong. I can’t be falling for Julia, she’s younger, more innocent and her mother has been so nice to me. I need to think of the beautiful girl I can call mine back in Buenos Aires. If only there was a way to distance myself from the girl I’m living with, stuck in a house with, forced to talk to every night! Sounds crazy, but it’s a good kind of crazy. Although I suppose I’m not forced to talk to her, it is a guilty pleasure of mine. The walk to the train every morning has been casual, yet magical. The way she gently places one foot in front of the other, gives me shivers. Even watching Julia eating dinner gives me butterflies, the way the spaghetti twists around her fork and is perfectly placed in her mouth. If only there was a way to kill this feeling and take my mind off of things. Maybe make more spaghetti?