Dear Yoona,
I don't know how to start, hell I'm not even sure why I'm writing this right now. I don't have pretty words to say to you. I really don't. Yeah, I know what you're thinking and I'm not sure either; is it me who has nothing to say to you or have words already given up on me? After all, you were always the one with the pretty words. See Yoona, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you with this matter too. But that shouldn't have surprised you, as much as I loved you very dearly, at some point I was a mere disappointment. I guess this won't be easy for you to accept, it's the thing about you; you're too good natured. I suppose you haven't even realized the reason why some people had started to avoid you, was me. Sadly Yoona, I'm no longer the kind of man one should devote herself to. I wish I could have cherished you, yet men are selfish, it's just the way it is and I wonder sometimes how you manage to hide it so well. If I had a choice, I admit we always do so let me rephrase, If I were brave enough to choose, I would have liked to stay with you. But pain is worst Yoona, when it's not physical. I couldn't stand the fact that I no longer felt anything, not happiness, not sadness, nor peace but only the empty agony of nothing. It was unbearable, now I see, I write these things out of my selfishness once again. I can't face the fact that I was alone, suffering, I was afraid Yoona. I needed someone to be with me. Call me a disgusting, thoughtless, heartless bastard, it will - I cannot stop it- only give me a sick feeling of joy. I'm sorry Yoona, I had lost the joy of living and had to look for it elsewhere.
Tell me Yoona, were you always this perfect? Was there a time someone, something, anything that could make you angry, that made you express your resentment? I doubt it.
Yoona, have you ever stopped loving? I admit I did. Both of us. I stopped loving you and myself. No, honestly, my sentiments will always belong to you but love is not about the heart, is it? It's all about one's mind. Once you stop thinking, once you stop feeling, the essence of love, what makes love "love", ends too.
It's getting late and my thoughts have started to fade away with the sunlight. This pen that I hold has became stranger to me; as if it's moving by itself, I'm only watching the letters to form on this ugly paper. Where have I found it? I no longer remember. Yoona, I'm afraid things I'll write from now on may not have a meaning at all. This reminds me of times I, too, used to write. But all seems just very long ago. How many days has it really been? Six months? Seven? Maybe more. I have had longer breaks but there was always a reason behind, there is none now. It's just empty Yoona, and it gives me pain. When have I landed my words to you and what are these ugly meaningless things that are forming on my paper against my will? Have you stolen them Yoona or was it me who gave them to you all conscious?
Yoona, I wish to stop remembering now. How did you manage to forget all those fights we had just the day after? Teach me. I won't ask you to give my words back. Just teach me that, how to forget.
It has became very dark Yoona, I can't see anymore. But I won't turn the lights on, it has been a while they have stopped illuminating my way.
Do you remember our childhood dear, somehow lately, I tend to remember those days quite often. Do you remember how my mother used to lit up the candles at night because I didn't like the plastic itch lights gave out and you simply feared of their absence. I continuously try to remember the smell, the intoxicating odour the smoke let out into the air but all that have left are reminisces, I cannot seem to recall the feeling.
Yoona, all my candels have already melted down. There is no meaning in writing anymore. I'll stop now and wait for the darkness to surround me until the day.
