January 23, 2015, Friday, 8:58PM

I fell in love with the sad reality in which you wrote the first half of my book about how much you loved my imperfections and all the love I've always wanted to hear, and the heartbreaking realisation that, I, whom you once loved, am writing the last page — that I was loved by an author and how he tore off the first half of my book. His love for me.

January 17, 2015, Saturday, 8:0AM

Not seeing you won't make me love you any less,
but I feel like I'm about to fall apart.

"My flaws are here, here, here, here, here..." I went on and on, jabbing my finger aimlessly on his body. He looked so sad, then I took a deep breath and whispered, "and here," laying my hand on his chest and continued, "because you fell in love with me," I looked at him dead straight in the eyes, hoping he'll understand that I will never stay his.
Nothing stays nor lasts forever and I, certainly don't.

"How about you? I feel like you're my flaw," he managed to choke out. I hugged him one last time and sighed, "I'm afraid I'm everyone else's." And pressed my lips against his tear-stained cheeks. He took my hand and held it in both, "but we all learn to love our flaws in the end, right? I love you, I love you, I love you —," I cut him off.

"And I'm still learning how to love you back"