My brother died at just 25. It wasn't an illness or an accident; he just had a heart attack in his sleep. It's so absurd that I still can't believe it. I feel like if I call him, he'll pick up, and if I go see him, he'll be there.

I wasn't even that good to him... I wish he'd stayed just a little longer. My brother was such a kind soul his whole life; why did he have to leave so soon? It feels like a lie.

We lived apart since our parents' divorce, so we didn't see each other often or get to live together. Why was he in such a rush to go? And to go like that, a heart attack in his sleep...

I'm so sorry, oppa. I really miss you. I hope you're happy in heaven. I love you...