"My heart ache for the fact that you may be what I think about and love, and that time fades your face, your voice, your good and our distance; it makes me realize that I may just not like you as much I hoped so, but at least, I feel sweetness and pain when the blurred memory with you as the center are replayed in my forgetful mind."

I am young and so are you; I see that as I practice something more, I forget what they are, purely and simply, in the end

I realise that the more people I love and see as equal, the less special people should be as they should be special to me

Are you the product of this pathetic, broken practice? I am sorry that I still don't know if I like or love you.

But still, at least I wrote a letter and tons of stuff to honor what I think I have for you

And this "secret" would remain just as the secret, truth and openness.

I would never tell you that I had these thoughts and confusion; you, at least in my future plan, still remains a good friend to me, or to you, I am just a once was close friend who weirdly bothers you sometimes.

Heck, you may even realise that I liked you

But yeah, I guess I am not spending anymore thoughts on you and perhaps just think of this ridiculously emotional clip of my long yet short life.