Dear First Love,
I’m back home. The holiday was perfect and fun. How have you been doing? Do I... have the right to ask? No, probably not. After all, you have a girlfriend still.
Today’s a Friday. While I was on holiday, I heard that you signed an NBA contract. Your officially an NBA player now. You’ve achieved your goal. Congratulations.
Tomorrow is your first match. I’m getting weaker and sicker by the day to the point where I’m in the hospital now while writing this. I can feel my death coming.
Strangely, I’m not afraid anymore. I’ve come to peace with my actions, my decisions. I don’t regret a thing. As much pain I went through pushing you and my friends away, making sure that none of you would miss me or cry over my death, I don’t regret it. Grandma asked me if I had a final wis
