Why?

Why can’t I say it?

I stared into her eyes in that picture on my nightstand, so angry I was ready to tear it apart. No, that would be the same thing I did to you. The person I want to destroy is myself. I never should have led you on. We both know that. But it doesn’t make it your fault. You were the one with hope. Just like every other girl, you thought you could change me. You thought you could be the one to fix me, the one to make me fall in love. Maybe I thought that too. But you put your heart and soul into me. I couldn’t do that because I don’t think I have either of those things. I saw the cuts on your arms. In another life, if I were someone else, someone who deserved you, I would rush to your side and kiss every one, make you tell me why you did it, change myself and make you promise to never to do it again. But I was indifferent to them. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know how to comfort someone. Maybe that’s because I don’t know comfort myself. How can I give an emotion that I was taught to never feel? How could I love you when my world taught me to never open your arms to someone because your hands have to be ready to defend yourself? It was my selfishness that was your undoing, Sungah. If I could have said to myself, “Kyungri, you will ruin this girl’s life like you do every other, and she’s too good for that, leave her alone,” you would be here to find someone else.

But we were together for how long? See, I’m so horrible, I don’t even know. And every time you said you loved me, every time you said I was your everything, I just smiled. I made you believe it was in me somewhere. But it wasn’t.

A year ago, you asked if I loved you. A year ago, I couldn’t say anything. A year ago, you lifted my chin and looked at me, waiting for an answer. A year ago, that gesture reminded me of the wrong person. A year ago, I shook and screamed, “NO!” and you ran away. Today, I don’t have the balls to visit your grave.