When I turned my gun on her, she turned my gun on me. I've run out of bargaining chips in my hand, and she's always been able to see through my weaknesses and take advantage of them. I knew I couldn't escape, either from her or my morbid and uncontrollable obsession with her. She is always the first to strike, and she is the one with the highest chess move. I am as old as those letters that have survived for many years. She squeezed out my love with peace of mind, and killing my husband was like a gift to me. She ruined everything for me and wanted me to continue this damn broken life. She was fine with it, and I was helpless. We faced off with guns. She told me I couldn't, that I couldn't do anything to her. She was expressionless, like when I first met her. Day and night I forced myself to turn my thoughts into hatred, hoping to end her life with my own hands. But she stood in front of me and I couldn't do anything. I knew she wouldn't hesitate, she would shoot, she would kill me. So I turned on myself and pulled the trigger. Fortunately, in the end, she just looked at me expressionlessly. The little love in her heart came from me, and she didn't need to return it. I die. And finally forgive her, forgive her, love her.
(reproduced)
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