Crazy little thing called love, People

The Long Overdue Letter

Hello, you, who think that 3 is your lucky number,

How are you? It feels like ages since the last time we met. Honestly, I want to blame the universe for not making us meet, but I think one of us (or both?) know(s) better. Whether it’s you or I that eschew. But let bygones be bygones, maybe it’s better off this way.

I’ve always been surprised to hear things about you. The interview, and now, hearing the big thing that you’re gonna face tomorrow, is making me cry. God knows why. Maybe because it hurts, now I know nothing about you, while I used to be someone who always know things about you, inside and out. We’re turning from strangers to strangers again, aren’t we?

I’m sorry for only sending you a (fake) cheerful message. Believe me, if that night had never happened, maybe I would jump into my car right away and drive to wherever you are now, heaven knows for what. Maybe to keep you company, or maybe just to support you, because I know you’re scared.

Unfortunately, we’ve grown too far. I don’t know if you realize it, but our conversation now can only last for less than five minutes. The conversations that only happen when we accidentally meet in the hallway, class, or somewhere else in the campus. Not like the old conversations, when we sat on that supposed-to-be pond in PVJ until almost midnight, talked about almost anything from the past to the future. Oh, how I miss having a long talk with you, and sending a message ‘Thank you for tonight. I know you better now.’ afterward when I got home and played the conversations again and again like the broken casette.

Maybe I miss you, but I’m too naive to admit it.

This feels much worse then the first time when I only knew you as the guy who played the piano.

But for you, who used to be someone special, who used to give me inspirations to write a 7000-words short story, who used to make me glow, who used to give me warmth, who used to make me really happy;

Good luck, for tomorrow and ever.

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