Yongsun presses her head into her palms, sniffling, as light breaths of air escaped between her lips.

"I can't do this," she mumbles into her phone, eyes squinting against the light, as her right hand tossed away an empty box of tissues. "I really ing liked her, Wheein."

"C'mon, you know you can," the gentle voice over the phone coaxed, albeit a tad bit fatigued. "It's been about five hours, Yongsun. A little cliche, but there are plenty of fish out there in the sea! Moonbyul's not the only-"

"You don't understand, Wheein. I really liked her, not for her face or her body, but because she was her."

"It's okay. Give yourself time. It'll take a while, but time is all it takes."

"I can't. I really-"

"You can. Why not... why not write it all down?"

"Write it down?"

"Yeah, archive it. Your thoughts, things that remind you of her, things that you disliked about her. Stuff like that."

And so, Yongsun, in the dead of the night, allowed herself to pick up something else that wasn't a piece of tissue or a Starbucks serviette: a pen and a journal.

day one // to myself (1)

*these entries are for me to remember, if i'm ever in this situation ever again, that i'll be alright.

they told me writing it all down helps.

i suppose it's quite funny, that there's so much chaos strewn all over my mind, but when i arrive at a fresh page, i can't seem to pen anything down. i wonder why is that?

i've liked you for a long time, and now that i don't have you, time passes by a little slower.

moonbyul, i've always thought of our relationship as a kind of puzzle, where we would fill and build in little pieces with each other every day, just like how you'd make up for some of my flaws and how i'd make up for yours. but when i was about to fit in the last piece of the puzzle, you took all your parts away, and now i'm just left with myself and a gaping void that you used to take up.

they said that red flags all just look like flags when you wear rose-tinted glasses, and perhaps that was how i looked at you.

dear self, 

the first few days are the hardest. you'll cry, you'll sob, you'll start building up the walls that you broke down to let that one person in. you'll look at yourself in the mirror and promise to never let someone break your armor again, and you'll suit up again and even perhaps add a few reinforcements here and there. you'll compare her to everyone else you meet and think, you'll never get someone as good as her ever again.

you're heartbroken, but that's okay.

that's okay.

day six // to myself (2)

you're such a ing inconvenience.

i make a trip to the mall, and when i look around all i feel is a burning torture in my heart, as if someone was continuously dripping water drop by drop over the top of your head drop by drop by drop by drop. why? because everything reminds me of you maybe it's a piece of clothing that you'd totally wear and i'd pick it out for you or maybe it was the caps that you would plant over your head or maybe it's that cafe i walked past because all i can remember is that you loved salted caramel icecream over waffles maybe it's how that boy looks at that girl the same way you used to look at me and i can't look around without everything ing reminding me of you and it  it big time every ing song that comes up on spotify or youtube doesn't help at all because every single one is either a love song or a break up song and i know it's only been six days but i wish time could do its work on me a little faster

i'm still on the waiting list to sew up the wounds you left me

it's the worst at night, but i'm just going to let myself feel

day four...teen? // to myself (3)

dear self,

the worst is over.

it's been two weeks, and though it still hurts, you can bravely scroll past her name without feeling as if someone stabbed a balisong through your chest.

good job, yongsun.

you won't be able to forget her presence just yet, though.

the way she played with your fingers when you guys were on a date (you didn't even know you were on one) and they way they interlocked and finally found their place – inbetween yours. when she was tired and would lean her head on your shoulder, and all you could smell was sweet strawberry. it became your favourite scent, when you were nestled between her arms, or when she was in yours.

you won't be able to forget what she said, either.

this one is a bit harder, darling. the flirty messages she'd send, those that would send your heart playing to the beat of staccato. the goodnight messages, the good morning messages, the "i miss you"s and how you'd call her loser, to which she'd reply with "your loser".

that girl had a way with words that you were initially intimidated of, and you had great reason to be.

you probably still can't bear to see her face or name directly, and that's okay.

you'll be okay.

day twenty-three. // to myself (4)

dear self,

of course you'll still think of her. that's a given, considering how much you liked her.

find assurance in the fact that it does get better. instead of a fire burning in your chest every single day that you can't seem to extinguish, it slowly becomes a dull ache that you notice, but doesn't make you lose your appetite or want to puke.

it's like the flu. you don't just get up and miraculously feel better, you let yourself be, let yourself feel, and after a while you realise it's simply not really there anymore.

things still remind you of her, and you'll try to reach out and grasp the chords that she used to play on her piano.

you look back at your texts, your conversations that people have asked you time and time again to delete, but you can't bring yourself to.

after all, how can you simply delete memories?

they'll still stay in your head anyway.

some things just cannot be erased.

and you, moonbyul, you are one of those things.

day fifty-two...? //  to myself (5)

dear self,

you might've realised that you still don't really get used to people leaving.

i'll tell you straight up: you don't. you never will.

it rips a hole right into you, and leaves a scar that marks the completion of a battle in life, a battle that you have recovered and healed from.

you'll still be afraid of rejection, but remember that to avoid that is like avoiding life itself.

when you first start to grief, it hits you in waves. huge, merciless waves that seem to hammer you back and forth, but you hold on and try your best not to drown. eventually, after weeks, or months, they settle down a bit, and though they don't hit you as much, you still struggle to float, to keep your head up when they do. anything can cause a storm to happen again, perhaps the tune of a song, or the smell of her favourite coffee.

you're still trying to keep yourself afloat, and eventually you sputter and kick your way out of the ocean.

you'll be cold and you'll shiver, but you'll start to enjoy the warm rays of the sun again, while the waves are now gentle ones that caress your feet on the shore.

you'll smile and you'll remember, but now they're just warm reminders of what used to be.

i can't remember the tunes you used to play for me anymore, so i’m writing them all down.

and maybe one day the rest of these pages will be

blank.