To my dearest,

As I write this letter, I realize the irony behind our situation. We lived within a few steps of each other in the same house for decades. Everyday we met and talked. I had so many chances to tell you how I felt, but I couldn't. I thought I'd gotten rid of all the embarassment from when we started living together.

We've shared everything from our hopes and dreams to our most embarassing secrets; everything but this. I've decided to leave you my journal -- at least what remains of it.

Several of the pages have been ripped out as they were nothing more than the bitter remnants of sad memories. I fervently hope that this will help convey these uneasy feelings.

Maybe then you can personally touch the depth of the pain I've been harboring for years. Every bit of my thoughts towards you are laid bare within this journal. We will never have the chance to apologize now. It's far too late for regrets. At least now you'll understand.