And there she was again, with her diary and a pen and million things
running in mind that she cannot confess to him, at the roof top with
the same old wooden chair and the wind caressing her hair.The pages of
her diary already ached with the pain she had poured on them in the
form of words and today some more torture was on the way. She finally
held the arrow to kill the pages out of pain. She began.

I wonder if I could ever tell you :

-how much my heart aches to talk to you, to be with you all day long
and to spend each night in your arms.

-what you mean to me and how many years have I spent loving you.

-how wonderful my day goes when I get to see you or talk to you.

-how I loose all my senses when you are around.

-how badly I suffer when you are not around.

-how much I miss what we used to be.

-how much I dream what could we be together.

-how much I adore the pain caused in loving you.

-how much I long for the life that I can spend with you.

-how much I am in love with all your flaws.

-how much I value the love you have for me.

-nobody can do what you do for me or love me the way you do.

-I want nobody in my life but you.

She finally finished the confession to her diary feeling lightsome
leaving the pages heavy.