Its really naive
That i was thinking about
Knowing you so well
And the slightest change didnt mean anything to me

But sometimes knowing someone doesnt meant anything.
People change


Its silly for me
When we first met I thought that
I have known you for a long time
That you are not someone to me
You were something


Something that made me wake up at night and feeling that i must have you


But, some day I woke up at night thinking i will never be good enough.

Bu maybe I shouldnt romantize someone who didnt love me back.

And love myself more.
Know myself more.
More than knowing and understanding anyone else.

Hope is a dangerous thing,
a spark that dares to bloom
amid the shadows of the unknown.
Yet, it’s hope alone that shapes our dreams
from the fabric of fear,
weaving light into the darkness.

As I step into the world,
I see countless souls, their hands clasped,
praying, wishing, hoping
in the midst of peril.
Walking down these streets of yearning,
I watch as they flirt with danger,
each act a bold defiance
against the void that pulls them.

I wonder, must we embrace the edge
to feel the thrill of hope?
Must we dance with danger
to taste its bittersweet promise?

Why does hope bind itself to risk,
and why does fear give hope its wings?
Is it the peril that makes us feel alive,
the tempest that stirs our dreams,
the danger that makes us dare to hope?

As I wander through the muted streets,
I see reflections of gray in every glass,
and shadows that linger, stretching over silent corners,
darkness pooling where light once fell.

I can bear this endless grayness;
it’s just the weight of thunder,
a temporary gloom that will someday lift.
The sun will return, and all will be bright again,
for clouds are fleeting, and storms are only visitors.

But then, there’s the abyss.
I feel it calling to me,
its darkness profound,
an endless gaze that seems to follow,
unblinking, as if it knows the shape of my thoughts,
as if it too remembers the light but chooses otherwise.

In that gaze, I wonder, am I alone?
Is this sorrow my own, or does it belong to us all?
I reach out into the silence,
asking if these shadows are a universal curse,
or if they mark only my path today.

And yet, I believe in the mystery of each soul,
the ways we are alike and still so unknown,
woven into the fabric of our hearts.
I cling to the thought that no one else feels quite like this,
not today, not as I do.

So for now, I hope, I pray
that these shadows find only me,
that the burden is mine alone to bear.
Let the darkness spare you, Seunghan,
just for today. Let it rest with me.