Letter from an unknown woman

Wanted to write a love letter, written in love never ends, will write their own young round. Unfortunately, no, say no to die, no accommodation.
So sad for the write fails. Because people are always with love. Whether you love to which level is happy. I do not know this is not write sad counted as happiness. Anyways, sad seems to be stronger than numb.
Want to write a real love letter.
Come to think of it, though written hundreds of letters each year, in this life to write thousands of letters, none of them is worthy of love. Not talk like a drunk, don’t spend a Brocade-like statements. Listen to the song to hear “you like dashed out the glow of the Sun, very fresh, girl. , Think lyrics are really not bad, turn to their own, but are too shy to write. Also in the letter seems to have. I love you. A class of words, said rush to branches, a frenzied escape a trap. Even surprised themselves, is clearly to stubbornness, we can have that kind of shortness of breath. A man who don’t even complete love, not just worthless.
More tasteless is incredibly sad. Mourning is to die, not to toss between the death of a man in the heart with the undead. Feel the life is not easy, also feel the love is not pure. Sadly, it is cumbersome. Even mourning, and still is. A mere boy. Three words. Love is an action, not a declaration. When no action, only intentional meditation. Filter declarations and actions of Bewitched, Miss innocent, to erode their own. I think, like write an article really. Virtual. Novels, I write a real love letter. I was too afraid to say stupid things. Not a stupid, so stupid in the past as a whole. People do not always find a way. Envy those boys makes me annoyed, they relaxed, jovial, no sense of weight. They are not staring at that eye of the self. When the man panted, Miss love. Seems to love’s Harbour, green space, is the garden of Eden. When discovered the snake in the garden, my sorrow. Grass not so green, Harbor waves. Anchored in love, homeless. Finally, learn to draw something on paper. Want to draw a dream. For the only weasel to the Zweig letter from an unknown woman is dreaming of, along with Carmen and aisimeilada, all life on paper only.
However, only living people so sad before.
Love and sorrow from the living.
Intimate, intense, ambiguous, future, end it all away, leaving only the sorrow, left in a Brown study, leaving no lost for nothing. You could not will be lost, my unfortunate and fortunate. You see, I still could not write love letters. If this is not a love letter, then it’s nothing.
Not like life look.
I think, in this life really good writing beautiful love letter. Or the lack of a large, how millions of Yu, write stupid. I think even the cattle love, even if it is woven into a beautiful lie.
Running reading Leo Tolstoy’s life, he is not out of love, and mourned for him. He earned two free’s death. He was worth it.
You are young, you have many opportunities to do not have to try to be smart, you don’t have to run away. You should not take seriously for sale. You have to have a bright future. Thinking of you.