I might not be the same girl like all those girls you've dated before. I don't dress like others. I have no common taste. I talk thoughtfully. I choose words wisely.

You might not be the first one I have adored. Yet all this time I've been relying on plain amazement of loving without being loved in return. No one has intension to love me.

I am so melancholic. I spent my teenage phase being suicidal. My 16 to 19 times I spent beint attempted to die. I am not afraid of bloods that burst out from my wrist. I don't mind spending days just for crying.

I used to be the outspoken one. But life has its ups and downs and eventually it changed me a lot. I guess I was born to suffer not to survive. That's why I became depressed all the time.

Dear, you know I care or not at all. You've tried nothing, I am just falling. And the more I fall, the more I'm afraid of getting the unbearable pain I can't fathom.

I'm not ready to be drowned once more, crying all my tears away, shouting and yelling to the silence, pulling down my sadness to the utmost.

Dear, I'm just not ready for this. I get myself wrong. Shall I tune a farewell and say good bye all along?