I came home today after another miserable ordeal, hoping to get some rest and try to sort my head out. But my brain was in such a state of disarray, I did something stupid.

 I ended up in my old thinking spot again, the place I used to go to puzzle over things before you left. It was the bean bag we used to sit in together while watching old movies. You used to laugh so much at the actors’ funny accents and clothes. I laughed too, just seeing the smile on your face (the real one-the one that outshined everything else), hearing that smile in your voice.

 I don’t laugh at all anymore. I think I might’ve forgotten how. I hardly think it’s worth the energy, with nothing beautiful left in my life but for you, who won’t acknowledge my existence half the time.

 This bean bag, which used to hold such happy memories and a sweet smell, was once so soft, but now…it’s stiff. Stiff and stained with dried tears; most of the stains on the left side, where you always used to sit.

 I lie down and bury my face in your spot, trying to fill the gaping hole you’ve left me with. The endless void in my heart is relentless, Jjong; it’s eating me from the inside. I feel despair taking me over bit by bit, a little more every day. You didn’t even explain why you’ve left.

 I never do my homework or take pride in my cooking anymore. Everything I do reminds me too much of how I used to do things the best I could just to please you. My room is so neat that you could find an accurate map of it on modeling.com. Because my emotions are shattered, I have to freak if anything ELSE I can see is out of place. I can’t take any more of this. I can’t help it…