Do you remember that night, when you walked past me and waived. You’re holding a book, and I swear, John Greene’s Looking for Alaska wasn’t really my favorite ‘cos I have love his Paper Towns way more. Disappearing, going so far away where everyone doesn’t know me was really my thing. But, you got me thinking you were really looking for something. I think I will always look back and whenever I look at that certain book; you were the only thing that’ll pop in my mind.
I remember how I wrote my first ever impromptu letter to you. And I damn swear, I only intended to make it short. And with all honesty whenever I read that, I cringed hard ‘cos it was too sloppy and too raw for my liking. But that made me a writer. You made me a writer.
I always thought I wasn’t made for anyone. That people will never ever understood the depths of my being and the way how I see this world differently. Did you know how much it meant to me knowing you find the universe within my soul and in every fractal of my entirety. You just get me. I always thought you were just a pigment of my imagination - something I wouldn’t find in my existence; something that maybe I’ll relentlessly search in my other life that follows.
Do you remember the first time you saw me in person. Truth is, I was overwhelm and scared at the same time. I was afraid that one day I’ll look back to that moment and all I could think of, was that I wasn’t supposed to do what I did - leaving my comfort zone. But it made me brave. You taught me to be, my great perhaps.