Dear K,

I love you. It's my own fault. Right now I have that whimpering lip thing going on and all I could wish for is to have you by my side.
K...., I have to get out of here alive. I thought I was fine, but this morning I've been buried. All the romanticism and emotions I feel for you are being sealed in an air tight bottle. If I throw it into the ocean maybe one day you'll find it and realize how deeply I cared for you. We might not have been bonded and obligated but I thought we were most definitely at the level where the truth is always told. Yeah, they say I'm naive. But I thought I was romantic. I'll repeat, I thought I was romantic. And upon finding out that I'm always wrong about the things that matter most. Oh, can I tell you how much that kills a soul?