Until we meet again
I did it. I finally did it. It wasn't so bad. I thought I would never be able to approach the person who I truly love. But I said everything. I confessed. My fear was all a lie. And what I'm feeling afterwards isn't so bad. It really hurt at first, but the pain gradually subsided. I'm fulfilled. Soon I was able to understand that it's for the best. After all, how can love bear fruit in a month? I'm content. I'm satisfied. I mean, wouldn't it be tragic if love bloomed only to suddenly wilt? Would it be worth to be together and not have a happy ending? "We'll begin the procedure... I want you to count from one to ten... so you won't feel the pain..." But I have nothing to regret. It's finished. I can go now. I started to count. "One." The light's so bright. "Two." And I'm a bit cold. "Three." It's fine either way; I don't regret anything. "Four." I just wanted to tell you how I