February 1

Dear Love,

I bought this notebook after my doctor’s visit the day I found out. It’s such a feminine notebook, with the roses and all but I guess I reasoned I bought it for you. Soon enough, I will fill in the white box in the front with your name and you will discover that it is indeed for you. Somehow, I know you won’t look at it any sooner. You’ve always been trustworthy like that. I could leave anything with you, and I knew I would be able to trust you with it. Maybe that’s why I gave you my heart. I knew you’d keep it safe and sound within your own. Remember when I first told you I loved you? We were walking down the Han River and you listened so careful as I told about Beijing and my parents. I’ve never felt so important, not even on stage. You listened so intently, all I wanted to do was tell you more. I wanted to tell you everything. I wanted you to know every single thing about me, and that’s how I knew. I wanted to give you all of me, and so I did.  I stopped suddenly and you turned to look at me so confused. Your lovely voice asking me what was wrong, if I was all right and all I replied was I love you. The way your face dropped made me sure that you didn’t feel the same until you replied as quiet as possible, “I love you too.” Even now I can still hear it, the way you said it the first time. I still can’t think of anything more beautiful than that sound, not even your laughter. 

Love