A/N: This is a little dark, I can't even believe I wrote this. It's just, unbelievable. My first suicide fic. It's so…well, you can just feel Syaoran's pain, really. It hurts. R and R.

Disclaimer: I don't own CCS.

Note: Even though it's written here, suicide is a very bad thing. DO NOT DO IT! IF YOU ARE DEPRESSED, GO SEE A COUNSELER, YOUR PRIEST, SOMEBODY! SUICIDE IS NOT ENCOURAGED! THAT'S WHY SYAORAN DOESN'T DO IT!

Dear Syaoran,

This is the girl with the split heart writing to you from an open perspective.

If you remember, my full name is Sakura Kinomoto, we used to be in love. In love about a month and two weeks ago, that is.

We were going out steadily, we loved each other very much and nothing would ever keep us apart. Remember, my friend Tomoyo said that we were two peas in a pod. Two blossoms on a branch. One person made out of two people.

I guess it's not that way anymore.

If you forgot, we were going out one day and suddenly a woman came out from behind a tree. You were acting strangely that day, flinching and grimacing often. You were too uptight. You wouldn't listen to me. I didn't care, you know I'm a happy carefree person who just thought you were in an ornery mood. Correction there- you're always irritated.

Anyway, that woman came out from behind the tree and grabbed your hand-snatched it, I should say, and shoved me out of the way. I would have let you two be alone if you just, well, asked me.

I hope you have a good explanation for that girl, because if you don't, the reason would have to be laid down by me as "cheating", remember? It's what you did to Meilin and now me? Oh, Syaoran, think whatever you want, but this woman writing to you is not going to stop her "idiotic", "pushy" tales until she gets the morale.

Moving on- we were always together. What was that woman doing with you? I swear…she was older than you. 19, at least. You're only fifteen, Syaoran. If you were into older women…why didn't you just tell me? We would've been off better that way, and you know it. We could have been friends right now, instead of me writing this self-explanatory letter to you saying how disgusted you make me feel, Syaoran. Then and now. Well, then starting from the tree and the woman, now from my pen touching this paper. You will never smell the scent of cherry blossoms again, at least until spring. I am going to avoid your glances-your glares-your tones-your drone, Syaoran-until you answer me with a decent enough letter of why we split up. I am still not comfortable. I want to know why this happened. I loved you, you know. I still might if you give me a good thrashing with words…however, if you're too agitated to do it, fine.

Enjoy your life alone, Syaoran.

~Sakura Kinomoto

P.S. Syaoran, if you're willing to confess, I just might forgive you, but for now, in a time of pain…nothing is possible.

Good-Bye.

Syaoran looked at the letter in his hands and sighed. There was a dried cherry blossom stuck to the envelope, and he pried it out, sniffing the delicate thing. He'd been uptight that day. He knew Sakura was delicate-like the flower-but he still ripped her to pieces. He was ungrateful.

His stare lingered at the flower, then moved to the bed, where Carrie, his girlfriend, lay, sleeping. He knew, when he saw her, he'd have to make a choice-Sakura or Carrie. But he couldn't make one. Love has a split personality, he thought, and that was that. Two people. Two lives. One love.

Two loves got him nowhere. And now he was torn, torn from a sakura branch, where he'd lingered all his life. The scent from the flower was no more. No more, no more.

Syaoran fingered the trigger on the gun. Might as well, he thought. I could either live a life of regret on earth, with her, and the pasts of Sakura, or I could live a life down there. Still be a man of regrets, but at least he wouldn't be there to see them. Wouldn't be there to remember her. Wouldn't be there to love her.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. He clutched the letter in his fist; put the sakura flower in the other.

He threw the gun out the window. A life of regrets was better, he decided. Better than living it down there.

~*~*~*~*~*~