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I mean, I think about it sometimes.
Am I right in loving you? Is this really love?
But why don't I remain in that love?
I usually make jokes like this as a joke.
My first love is still there.
But who knows? My first love ended a few years ago.
As the seasons changed, the person I had a crush on also changed every time.
I'm always suffering, swept away by those of you who are not kind to me.
Who do I love?
In fact, I just can't forget the excitement of that moment, and it's like an addiction, I want to meet someone again,
Are we going through a time where we have to hold someone in our hearts to survive?
You like someone, you love them, and then you ask them in your heart again,
There are so many memories like that that I can count them on one hand, but among them, I
Where are you hiding?
Was it a love that never existed in the first place? If so, then my love.
The excitement I've felt so far, and the self-esteem that was shattered by even the smallest things.
The burning sensation that made my face turn red, and the laughter that spread like paint.
Sentences that always had to start with ‘someday’,
The horizon that somehow stays with me, and the sincerity that will never reach me.
Where on earth are you staying?
Yes, if this is a love that will be lost like this. If even its name is destined to be forgotten in the end. I, at least, wanted to deal with the existence and disappearance of that feeling. I didn't want to write it down, even if it was clumsy, so that when I think of you someday, it will remain as a useless memory.
But I'm not unaware of this truth. Unrequited love is ultimately self-torture. It only tears and crushes your own heart, ultimately fading into fleeting memories. My jealousy will one day become the backbone of my shameful emotions, and if I express my feelings, they'll be remembered for eternity, ravaging my sleepless nights.
So, I'll promise you at least this letter. I don't even know when it was written.
Without even knowing when it was erased. Without even knowing when it was forgotten.
You know, I really hated you. Sometimes I resented your lack of awareness.
I often thought of you and chewed out curses. Actually, I'm sorry. I'm not the one who should hate you.
I was the only one who bit you because it didn't feel right. That's how I felt.
Sometimes I feel sad because it feels like I don't exist in your world.
I was anxiously wondering if I might see you on the street. I pretended to admire the scenery, searching for the hem of your clothes. I hastened my unintentionally leisurely steps.
In the end, I couldn't let go of my foolishness. You probably don't even think about me.
You probably don't even care about me. I thought of you more than I did.
And that day, when I had resolved to abandon such foolish thoughts and simply walk my own path, you truly have no sense. You truly, truly don't even consider me. Why, why, why did you pass me by that day? Why did I see that nose that I hadn't seen before? And why, why couldn't I ignore you?
My steps quicken as I try to catch up with you without hesitation. My head, aware of my own shame and self-loathing, grabs my ankles. Do you know that I'm walking behind you? No, in fact, I've been watching you often for a very long time. Do you even realize that in the end, I'm the only one suffering, the only one being hurt?
Even though I know it, why can't I break free from this love?
If I give up on this love anyway, no one will know about it.
No one knows that.
In the end, it will be a love that even I will forget.
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