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end of story - blood sakura 🌸

There’s no pride in love. Pride is a memory built by those too afraid to love. We fall, we stumble, we break that’s what life is. You can’t wish upon the sky and expect everything to align. If we can still love each other through our mistakes, then maybe we’ve already found something worth living for.

You talk about things not being enough. You’re right they weren’t. When love turns into a hunger, no amount ever satisfies it. We become selfish because we crave to be loved… just like in your letter, asking for what couldn’t be given. But tell me if letting go was truly the only choice, then why write to a ghost? Why speak to the silence if you’ve already moved on?

Let me finish that thought for you because you’re afraid. Afraid that speaking would pull you back into the house you still belong to. Afraid that remembering would break the walls of pride you’ve built to survive. I’ve known fear too. I fear being unloved, losing the moments we built from nothing.

I’ve learned what pride destroys when it cuts memories into pieces. Maybe it’s your turn now to feel, to risk, to understand what I meant when I said:
Let’s live the lives we’ve poisoned for each other. Maybe we’ll hurt again, maybe we’ll die a little more each time. But tell me, what’s the point of living safe if it means living empty?

They say when the Sakura fades, every memory is erased and only death writes the final line. So let it fade. Let it write its ending in our blood, like every story that ever mattered.

Because maybe… this is who we were life and death under the same Sakura tree.