Chapter 1
We go a long way to define love, only to let it define us. As far as I remember, I had been homophobic all my life. It never made sense to me: a woman loving another woman. But then I met HER. Then it all made sense, she was the only SENSE I could derive out of all the wierd things I was feeling already. Each passing moment, made me witness myself melt into her existence, pour my soul into hers till I was no more.
I had been in love several times, with men, before I crossed paths with her, but I never felt for any of them what I felt for her. I felt mountains of commitment for her, tides of passion and waves of unwavering love.
Loving her was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me, and losing her was the most tragic thing I had to suffer.
Anyhow, the tragic ending did not stop me from loving her, and the reason I am writing this is because I still love her as madly as a madman loves his madness. I cannot reach out to her, text her or even in anyway let her know that I love her. You will know why by the end of the book.
The diary is going to be a collection of letters I will write for her each day, it will subtly and chronologically tell our story, delve into my past to soak the reader in the love and pain I have for her.
It is random: the way the letters will be written, but hearts that had loved will always find a pattern in it. The pattern of love: pure and nothing less than it.
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