Author's Note: It's been a while since I've written any fanfiction, but here is my return. Is it a triumphant one? Well, that's for you to decide.

Disclaimer: I do not own Legend of Korra or any of the related names.

Dear Diary,

Asami told me that sometimes when she's feeling overwhelmed she pulls out a bit of paper and a pen and starts writing her thoughts down, just in an effort to try to collect them. So... here I am, trying to sort things out. Being the Avatar hasn't exactly given me a lot of free time, and as much as Tenzin insists meditating will help me relax and focus, there is still way too much buzzing around in my head like an angry buzzard wasp, just waiting to sting me at the worst possible moment. And believe me, you don't want to get stung by a buzzard wasp. Well, I suppose you wouldn't mind, you're just a piece of paper. Am I supposed to be writing to a piece of paper, or myself? Never mind.

I think Tenzin forgets that, in addition to being the Avatar, I am a teenage girl who likes to get out and have fun from time to time. I can see the furrowed brow, looking at me disapprovingly whenever I head out for an afternoon with Bolin and Mako. I swear his beard gets pointier the more irritated he gets, and that vein on his temple can't stand out any further and still be healthy. I guess all that meditating hasn't done you as much good as you'd like to have us all believe, eh, Tenzin?

Anyway, that's not the point I was going to make here. I suppose I'm beating around the bush because I feel awkward even writing, in a book no one else is going to read, what I've really been thinking about lately. It all started last week, when Asami rescued me from an impressively dull lesson in airbending culture (with all that I've heard about Avatar Aang, there's no way that all of these gurus were as boring as Tenzin makes them seem). We rode around town on her motorcycle for a while. I hope she'll teach me how to drive it soon. Whenever I ask her about driving lessons, particularly on her bike, she looks at me like I just asked if I could kick a baby into Yue Bay, though she usually softens and says "Someday, young avatar, when you have proven yourself worthy." in her best serious guru voice before breaking into a laugh. This is where everything started to go downhill on this particular day. When she started laughing, I felt a bit of a prickle on the back of my neck. Not a bad one, just something I was barely aware of, but as the day went on, that prickle grew.

Our first stop was a clothing shop. Yes, I know, how cliche, two girls going out clothing shopping. Asami had an important business meeting the next day and wanted me to help her find new clothes to wear. With each outfit she put on, I felt that prickle seeping down my spine slowly. It wasn't fair, I thought. I certainly am not unattractive, and my training keeps me in shape, but Asami is so beautiful in a different way. She moves so fluidly. I may be able to perform bending moves and weave my way around hand-to-hand, but Asami carries that grace over into daily life. So many of the outfits hugged her body so perfectly that I found myself stuttering when she asked how she looked. In the end, she decided on a black and red (they called it "vermilion," but it certainly looked red to me) jacket and skirt combination. The jacket showed no skin, but gripped Asami's curves well enough that it left little to the imagination. Not that I imagined anything. Shut up. The skirt, on the other hand, showed off a fair amount of pale, muscular leg. Damn. That prickling feeling is coming back.

After that, we decided to go out for noodles. Asami hadn't been to Jin Tao's noodle shop yet, so I figured this would be as good of a time as any, before the next world-shattering crisis came up. I won't go into boring details, but we talked and laughed for hours. Whenever Asami laughed, there was this certain way she threw her head back that I couldn't help but be transfixed by, and the way her curls fell back around her face when she leaned forward. She looked almost wild, with her red lips curled in a smirk. That's when that prickling hit my chest. I've never really looked at her like that before. Sure, I've noticed she was pretty. It's hard not to when you're feeling incredibly jealous. There's just something about the way the lanterns in the noodle shop caught her eyes that made me realize that she was really, truly beautiful. I wish I knew what that prickle was.

I'm lying. To you, stupid book, and myself. I know what that prickle is. I felt it with Mako, and I'm feeling it again now. I've never really looked at a girl that way before, and it's weird: I'm perfectly okay with it. Will I ever do anything about it? I don't know... I've always felt Asami and I made a pretty good team, but I'm not sure how she'd feel if I talked to her. It just gives me butterflies thinking about it. Damn it, I just looked in a mirror and I'm blushing. You know what? Forget this. This is stupid.

Korra curled her fingers around the few pages she'd written and tore them out of the book. She glared at them angrily, as if they'd done something to personally offend her and made a swift gesture with her other hand, conjuring fire from the air. She hesitated, biting her lip. The fire reached up from her hand, trying hard to reach the pages which would surely make a good bit of fuel. Korra waved her hand with a sigh, dismissing the flames and tucking the pages back in the book.

"It's not like anyone ever has to know," she muttered, shoving the book into a drawer and slamming it shut. She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest, glancing out of her window at the grand view of Republic City. Lights glimmered and moved to and fro as Satomobiles and Cabbage Cars carried their owners where they needed to go. On one of the nearby buildings, Korra could see an immense advertisement for Future Industries, featuring Asami standing near a new model of car. She looked stunning as always, that very professional smile gracing her lips, though her golden eyes betrayed a bit of her mischief. Damn. There was that prickle again.