Painfully I'm forcing myself to talk to you again. I hope to learn how to deal with indifferency so will never be hurt by it again. I step over myself now and try to think of you, to write you letters, to react somehow. I am not good in it but inch by inch I sew together two pieces of cloth and they hold. Sure there's a stich, wide and rough, and nothing can make those pieces the whole.

I rise above not to think about revenge, not to hope for future, not to hate. I rise above to simulate some kind of friendship, to avoid rumours, to act normally to a person who actually did nothing bad to me.

I really do my best but I can't succeed.