Missing You Log

Preface

This is not a diary of sorrow,
but a record of transformation.

Between August 24 and September 5, 2025,
I began writing down some moment I missed you.
At first, it was simply longing —
waves, stars, silence, sleepless nights.
But as the days unfolded,
the missing became something else:
symbols, reflections, truths, and energy.

This log is the arc of my awakening.
It begins with ache,
moves through beauty and paradox,
and ends in gratitude and sovereignty.

In missing you,
I learned how to love without possession,
how to transform absence into energy,
and how to expand love —
to myself, to life, and to the world.

Entries

2025-08-24, Morning — Sea
Swimming in the sea, I missed you in the waves.
The water pulled me forward,
yet my heart drifted back to you.

2025-08-24, Night — Stars
I saw stars.
I wanted to ask you to take a picture of the sky,
so I could see what you see,
so our skies could meet.

2025-08-26, Reflection — Silence
I missed you when I realized
I hadn’t emailed you for fifteen days.
The silence itself became a weight.
Absence was no longer just time passing —
it was something unspoken,
counted like days on a calendar.

2025-08-26, Afternoon — Globe
I missed you when I saw the globe
at the science factory.
The roundness of the world reminded me
that somewhere on this same earth,
you were standing under the same sky.

2025-08-27, 7:00 AM, Park — Embrace
I walked in the park and imagined
how tightly I would hold you, without a word,
when I see you in the future.
An embrace stronger than language,
a silence filled with everything.

2025-08-27, 2:30 PM, House of Light
By now you should have moved
to your new house of light.
I wonder what it looks like —
windows wide open,
rooms touched by sun,
a space where your presence glows.

2025-08-28, 9:37 AM, Drive to Hualien — Heart Cloud
On my way to Hualien I saw a heart-shaped cloud.
In that moment I realized:
you are the best gift of my life.

The love you gave me
provides endless energy to transform.
It is fuel for creation,
a current that carries me forward,
even in your absence.

2025-08-28, 10:46 AM, Suao Service Area — Saxophone Song
At the Suao service area,
I heard a man playing New Endless Love
on the saxophone.
The melody echoed what I feel:
one glance,
ten thousand years.

2025-08-28, Reflection — Depth of Love
I wonder if my love is too much,
too deep,
too heavy for you.

But love itself is never a burden.
The question is not its weight,
but whether it can be received.

What feels heavy in silence
becomes light when shared.
And even if you cannot carry it,
I can —
turning it into art,
into energy,
into creation.

2025-08-29, 6:48 PM, Suao Service Area — Fairy Tale
At the Suao service area,
I heard the song Fairy Tale
by Michael Learns to Rock.
Its melody carried me into wondering:
when will I see you again?

Looking at the moon, I felt a little sad.
We can’t even see the same moon,
because you are on the other side of the earth.

2025-08-29, 7:39 PM, Suao Service Area — Appreciation
After listening to that song for an hour,
I discovered the key to channel the energy of missing:
to appreciate.

Thank you for being
the best gift of my life.

2025-08-31, 6:00 AM, Park — Integration
I am almost finishing integrating.
I wrote: hope + no contact = pure energy.
I will concentrate this energy
to complete myself first,
then I will find you.

That is why I don’t feel sad but sweetness
when I was listening to Fairy Tale.
“When will I see you again?” — in three years.
“When will I know that you are mine?” —
yes, you will be mine.
I believe it.

2025-08-31, Reflection — Hope + No Contact Works
My formula works.
Now I am only 10% sadness,
and 90% motivation.
Hope carries me,
no contact protects me,
and energy transforms me.

2025-09-01, 4:40 AM, Home — Hunger for Touch
I woke up at 3 and wrote for an hour,
then went back to bed for a nap.
I felt a strong desire rising from my body —
it was hungry for your touch.

I got up and sat in front of my computer,
and I could feel the energy
warming my whole body.

2025-09-01, 7:25 PM, Home — First Video
It was a busy day.
I finished my first video.
It was fun.
I didn’t have time to miss you.

So I listened to Fairy Tale.
And as I did,
I imagined seeing you three years later.

2025-09-02, 6:21 AM, Park — Outfit for the Future
As I walked in the park,
I thought about what I would wear
when I see you in the future.

I imagined myself in the white jean short dress,
the gray top, and the yellow thin jacket —
the exact outfit I wore
the first time I saw you in Starbucks.

And I will ask you:
“Have I changed in the last few years?”

2025-09-03, 6:03 AM, Home — Sleepless Night
I went to bed at 8:40
but couldn’t fall asleep,
so I took sleeping pills at 10:00.

I don’t know if it was energy
or missing that kept me awake,
even though I was tired.

I will try to read for one hour,
instead of missing you,
before I go to bed.

2025-09-03, 6:30 AM, Park — Morning Flower Tree
This morning I passed the flower tree
and remembered how I once introduced it to you:
“Some beauty belongs only to early risers.”

You smiled and answered:
“It is like you.
I can only enjoy you in the morning?”

Now the blossoms are gone,
their season finished.
They will return only next summer.

And I wondered —
when the flowers bloom again,
will I meet you here?

2025-09-05, 6:00 AM, Park — Grateful to Love
Missing and longing
were replaced by great enjoyment
in making YouTube videos.

I was cured by life.

I guess I could integrate so fast
because I realized:
loving brings more energy
than being loved.

So I am truly grateful
that I could love you.
And it is my own business.

2025-09-05, Reflection — Closing the Log
It is time to close this missing log.

I will continue to love you in no contact,
but now I expand my love —
to myself,
to life,
and to the world.

Closing Note

This log began as a way to hold my longing,
but it became something greater:
a mirror of my awakening.

In these twelve days,
I learned that missing is not a wound —
it is a current of energy,
a teacher of freedom,
a seed of gratitude.

I thought I was writing about you.
But in truth,
I was writing myself into being.

Now the log is closed,
yet the love continues —
not only in silence and no contact,
but in every breath I give to myself,
to life,
and to the world.