To Cion,
I've been too happy for the past weeks causing my pen's ink to go dry. The allegory: I can only write when my heart is slowly tearing to pieces.
Tonight is different though. I simply just wanna transfer my thoughts on the paper.
I am so fond of writing poems and letters to men that I like, don't I?
So if I tell you that I wrote several letters for you, would you understand what I am trying to convey?