Last letter to the first.

Hello Sugarpie,

I hope you are well.

When I say that, I mean I hope I am doing better than you, that I am much more loved, much happier, much better than you. I hope you were not run over by a car but splashed by one, that your food arrived at your table exactly the way you want it to be but lukewarm. I hope you only remembered that you need to buy toilet paper after you finish it. When I say I hope you are well, I hope you are slightly inconvenienced but unharmed.

I am writing this letter to tell you that I am well. I have just bought a speaker that could drowned out the sound of you leaving. I am writing to tell you that I can see the small traces of you slowly washing away from me. Soon, I hope my memories of you will quietly stay put away in a photo album hidden in the back of my closet.

I have died for a very long time after you left. I thought I'd stay dead for a very long time but I met someone. I have met someone that allowed me to give myself permission to put you away. I saw a flower sprouting in this dessert that I call my heart. It's a miracle, really. I don't know if it will work out or not but I am grateful.

I like smiling and laughing and feeling okay. I just want to tell you that I am happy that it's no longer because of you. I think I finally am able to close this chapter that took up close to three years of my life,  two was just to get used to the idea that you no longer love me.I am grateful for you, grateful that I was given a chance to love you. I mean, I always will love you but I am okay with the fact that you don't know that now.

You had my heart. It was entirely yours. You can add that to your collection that you took pride in. I don't need it anymore. I have a new one now.

All the best in life, Cassandra. This time round, I really mean it because you really need it and because I genuinely want you to be okay.

With all my love for the last time,
Tryphena

A farewell perhaps?

I spent the last 7 months getting myself ready to let go

of every message you have ever sent me.

I feel like I am finally there. 

I don't look at your messages anymore,

no longer fall asleep to the sound of your "good night, I love you".

When it's close to midnight, 

I take off my glasses, make sure my phone is charged,

switched off the lights and just go to sleep.

When I am depressed and can't get out of bed, 

I just stay in bed but it's no longer because of you.

Somehow I am here, already able to see the end of the tunnel,

still reluctant to walk away from the comfort of the dark, which was to miss and love you.

This feels like a goodbye, a farewell,

one that I need to stop myself from running back to.

You are the greatest love story of my life. 

You made me believe in love, fate and all the stories that I have ever heard.

You were the one, my sun, my moon.

You will continue to be the first that I love,

I don't think I will ever stop loving you.

I no longer live for you

but saying that, I mean I no longer want to live at all.

It will be close to two years now,

I think I should at least try.

I believe I have experienced one of the greatest things in life 

which is loving and being loved by you.

I don't know if that is ever going to be enough for me.

If I am ever going to end my life,

then my greatest sin would be loving you. 

Tea and no cakes.

I have not seen him in a year. He has gotten a new hairstyle, new clothes. He has a new habit of running his hand through his hair when he's deep in thought or vulnerable. He said he has been trying to eat healthier, cut potatoes and rice. "More protein and veggies", he said to me, "It's better than not having anything to focus on."

We talked and laughed and enjoyed silence breaks in between tea sipping. Conversations filled to the brim with "I feel the same way too!", "How about you?", "I am really trying to be better," and "I need to hang out with you more often now that I'm back." I learn that he is really good with abs exercises now, likes the color green now and knows what he might do in the next 5 years career-wise. I have missed him. The last time I saw him, he was crying on his bathroom floor, paralyzed with pain. I have never seen or heard a heart break before. There was nothing I could do. How do you save someone who just lost his entire world?

Flash forward, there he sat. His world was rebuild, or at least that was what he is trying to tell me. We talked about everything but that night. I still didn't know why he disappeared, why he wanted to be alone. My questions were at the tip of my tongue. Anxiety had built up at the bottom of my stomach and has transformed into butterflies that might blurt out any seco-

"Why did you disappear?"

His eyes immediately clouded with disconcert, guilt and apologies. He lowered his gaze and knitted his eyebrows together. He continued to open and close his mouth with nothing coming out. He ran his hand through his hair, still looking down while clasping his hands together, left thumb on top. Of all the years I have known him, I know that when he clasped his hands together, he is in pain. My eyes flicker from the frown on his face to the left thumb that has now started to rub on his right thumb. I immediately regretted my question.

"I was in pain. I didn't know what else I could do..." He swallowed with his eyes fixated on the left thumb that never stopped rubbing his other thumb. "I know I shouldn't have done that but I don't know if I could still ask for your help anymore. It was beyond what you could give me. I had to go away..."

I took a huge gulp of water and blinked at him, confused. "You could have told me. You could have asked me to do something. I would anything for you." He still has not looked at me. His left thumb, still rubbing his right thumb. His lips, still a tight line.

Finally, he looked at me. I could see the pain reflecting in his eyes, his neck tensed while he was trying to keep himself together. Why did I bring this up and push him back to where he was trying so hard to get away from? "I still miss her. I still love her. I had to go away to know how to stop loving her." He swallowed again as if trying to gain what little bit of composure he had left. "I didn't leave because I didn't have believe that you will be there for me. I left because it was too painful to stay... I didn't know what else to do." He brought his hands to his chest and squeezed while taking a deep breath. The rubbing of his right thumb has slowed down but he still hasn't unclasped his hands.

The waiter came by to refill out drinks during the lull of our conversation. I had a feeling that I will be annoyed with her if she asked if everything was okay. Fortunately, guessing that she sensed the tension that was present within the radius of our table and she left quickly without a word. I was evidently still upset with him but he had good reason, personal reasons. I couldn't blame him for something that he had to do.

"What would you do if you had one wish?" I asked.

He chuckled weakly and his left thumb started playing with his right thumb nail. "Her," he said softly. "I want nothing else, no one else but her." I saw a small sad smile playing around the edges of his mouth, as if he was remembering something. He continued, "I still remember how I looked at her. I still remember how it felt like to kiss her. It felt like all the stars colliding into a bright meteor shower and the entire world disappearing. It felt like what forever should be like. It felt like everything that I wanted in every lifetime. It felt like she loved me too."

Let this be, hopefully, a beginning.

I saw her picture today. She was smiling with three of her closest friends. I know a lot about them. She used to tell me stories about them. They walked her through the rites of being a women. She is very fond of them. There were like the Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie that she never imagined having in her life. I hear about their problems, their strengths, their lives. She told me so much about them.

They don't know anything about me though. She never told them about the times we yelled at each other. You know what.. There's no point of me talking about this anymore. I just deleted the messages of her Singapore number. She doesn't care anymore. I deserve to be happy. She's off enjoying her life. I have to force myself to not care about her until I stop.

My body is already humming with pain. Who knows how much more pain this will be or how long this is going to be. Maybe I am meant to be in pain for feeling so much, for loving so much. Maybe this is my punishment. Maybe there is no such thing unconditional love. Maybe I am just paying for whatever that I have done. Pain is my price.

To remember.

Remember when we went ice skating around this time last year?
People were either whooshing past us, or
clinging onto the sides, like you?
It was the first time I could properly hold you in public.
You were scared of falling,
you vowed off skating fifteen minutes into the rink.
It was the only time when it was acceptable to hold you so close.

It's been close to a year.
We were over for close to a year.
You said you didn't love me nine months ago,
stopped picking up my calls, replying me seven months ago.
Stopped saying you love me, whatever that means, three months ago.
Became someone else, two months ago.

Well,
I collapsed crying on the floor of a cold shower nine months ago.
Stopped eating, started having nightmares of losing you seven months ago.
Started imagining scenarios of you coming back as a friend, whatever, three months.
Started gaining all the weight I lost, back from emotional eatings two months ago.
Stopped loving you, never.

I remember how your lips melt into mine.
I remember how it felt to hold you, the way you fit in my arms.
I remember your smell, your butterfly kisses that I don't understand,
I remember how your eyes look like in the dark.
I remember kissing you good night, a kiss to keep away the bad juju.
I remember loving you, I still remember loving you.

Good night kisses.

I have always kissed my pillow good night every night before I went to sleep. I imagined I was kissing you good night.You'd stir slightly before wrapping your arm around my waist and making yourself comfortable on my arm. I'd use my fingertips to trace the bridge of your nose, cheekbones, jawline, your eyelashes, your eyebrows- God, your eyebrows were my favorite. I'd lean in to kiss you lightly on the nose, then carefully on the forehead. Kisses like these became a prayer, a promise that I'll love you forever. I would hold you close, place kisses after kisses just to make sure that I get to wake up next to you the next morning.

It turns out kisses weren't promises. Ever since you left, I have never stop telling you good night. Every time after I said good night, I would bundle myself up in blankets. I feel cold when I miss you. It's like my body feels the absence of you. I miss interlacing our fingers together. I miss you sleeping on the nook of my armpit. I miss being woken up by you trying to curl up closer to me. The pain became bearable, humming in the background but I have never stopped missing you every night.

Anywhere but here.

Sometimes I have a feeling that I am not where I am supposed to be.
I feel like I should be miles and miles away from where I am right now.
I should be in a tent in the forest, camping with the love of my life
I should be half way across the world, studying or
walking to work, thinking about what to have for dinner.

It's not like I don't plan my life.
I think that was the mistake, planning my life.
When things don't follow "the plan",
everything else falls apart and I am now sitting here,
trying to use the pieces to make a new plan.
I feel like a spider that is only trying to make its web.
I spent time making the strands even,
making sure it's long enough to stretch from this beam to the next.
One more strand, one more and I'm done.
Then, rain poured.
Itsy bitsy spider went out the water spout,
down came the rain and washed the spider out.
That bitsy is me.

I wonder if it is human instinct to keep wanting a better place for yourself.
I keep thinking that I am better than what I am giving myself credit for.
Maybe, maybe I believe if things were different,
I wouldn't be in this much pain.
If I could be anywhere but here,
the timelines could be different then.
If the timelines were different,
I could be walking home,
thinking what I'm going to have for dinner with the love of my life.

A marriage proposal that I will never get make.

I knew exactly what love looks like.

When I saw you at the airport, luggage in hand, 

eyes still hazy from sleep, I knew you were everything I could ever asked for.

When you wake up in the morning, grumpy, 

morning breath, shirt up to your stomach, 

love of my life.

If someone asked where I see myself in ten years,

"Me and her in a condo", I'd say.

We would have a big couch with white goose feather pillows,

a kitchen with brightly colored utensils.

I see us dancing in the living room, kissing with juice-stained lips,

We would try to count the stars from our bedroom window,

pretend we live in another galaxy, with our pet dog.

If someone asked where I see myself in ten years,

I say I'd be with you in our little piece of heaven,

Being loved by you is the most painless thing that I never deserved,

Being loved by you felt like turning at the last right on the way back home. 

You make me want to wave at strangers that pass by me,
make me want to go skydiving even though I have a fear of heights.

You make me feel like I can never drown when I swim,
like I can never die; and if I do, it's okay.

You make me feel like I have nothing to be afraid of. 

When I am with you, there was nothing I couldn't do.

Of all the times that I have pictured you in a wedding dress, 

this was the one time when I also see myself next to you. 

If I had a dollar for the times when people asked if I was sure,

I could pay for the rest of our lives. 

I get to hold your hand forever, wake up next to you, kiss you good night,

tell you to get milk, drive you to places, eat burgers - forever. 

You are my best friend and my soul mate.

When I kiss you, I can taste the next fifty years of my life.

I promise to love you, treasure you and call you Sugarpie for as long as I'm alive.
I love you so much.

Will you marry me?

20 seconds of insane courage.

They say sometimes it takes only twenty seconds of insane courage to do something outrageous. It takes 10 seconds for you to change your life. You could turn your life around or make a step so big that it's a leap. You could save someone's life or take your own. In April, I gave you my heart. It took me one second to make that leap. It took me one second of insane courage and loss of all common sense to kiss you.

Questions that I want to ask you but never will.

There are so many questions that I want to ask when you told me you were meeting him.

Do you think of me when you hold his hand?
Is mine smaller than his?
Does he know or remember how your skin is smooth like marble,
as if the marble itself were hand picked by Gods himself.
Does his hand feel any different than mine?
Does his feel rough like all the work that he says he is supposedly doing
or is mine rougher from all walls that I had to climb through to get to you.
Does it feel like you're holding onto him or
does it feel like he doesn't want to let you go?
Does he look at your hands when you're holding his?
Does he hold onto your hands so tightly
that he feels like you might slip away and never come back?
Does he feel as lucky as I do when I am with you?

Then, I realize that you always hug him.
Does he smell of cologne?
Do you feel like your problems are fading away when you bury yourself in his arms?
Do you remember me?
Do you ever compare the way we held you?
Was I ever too tight? Or too eager? Were my shoulders broad enough for you?
Am I at the back of your head as he wraps his arms around you?
Does he ever realize when you are slipping away?
I remember, the way you turn your head sidewards
while you put your hands against my chest to pull away.
I remember how your eyes were dead.
I remember how you talked to everything around you but me,
and I had to play it off like I didn't mind.
Does he try to make any hug last longer? Does he try like I do?
Does he feel as happy when he is with you as I do?

And you cautiously told me that you kiss him.
Do you look at him the way you look at me?
Does he notice how your eyes can sparkle in low light?
Does he notice how you laugh when he pulls you in for another kiss?
Do you remember me when his lips grazed across yours?
Kissing you felt like kissing flower petals.
I wonder if you ever felt the exact way for him before you did for me.
Do you look at him the way you still looked at me?
Does it feel wrong to kiss two people the way that you do?

And when you told me, you still tell him that you love him..
Shit, that sucked.
It really did.
I felt that my chest was ripped open, my heart taken out,
only to have it shoved back in through my ribcage.
Do you tell him those three words before you go to sleep?
Does he say it back?
Do you mean it when you say it to him?
Do you think of me every time you say it to him?
You have deemed him worthy of those words.
Was I not enough to be more than a secret?
Do you think about the last time that you will say it to him?
What about me?
Have you ever meant it when you told me you love me?

Remembering when I was 22.

It scares me that I might not be able to remember what I am feeling now when I am 80. Right now, I am sitting listening to the cheesy songs about dancing under trees. Right now, I am undeniably in love. Right now, she is my everything and I would give up a lot if it meant that I could get a proper chance with her. Right now, I love her with everything that I have.

Enormous Idiot.

I am an enormous idiot. I knew I would love your hands as they trace my jawline, my lips and then, then the scars that cover so many areas of my body. I knew I would love your lips as they kissed bruised knuckles and tear stained faces with no judgement. I knew I would love those eyes as they look at me with such conviction to prove that I am worthy enough to be happy in this life. I knew I would fall in love with you.

So, if falling in love with you makes me an idiot, then I am an enormous idiot.

Christmas Tree.

When I first met her, she was pretty, like Christmas ornaments that you see in November. They make you gasp in adoration and you wonder if you ever need them for your tree. Then you just shrug it off because it’s November, it’s too soon for Christmas.

When I first talked to her, it was like realizing the exact amount of red and green your Christmas tree needs to have. It was exciting and for the first time in a long time, I found what I needed in her. Slowly, her smile, her laugh, and her voice – those became the fairy lights that are later hung on to the Christmas tree.

She was the perfect Christmas tree that I found in November.

How do you know you're in love.

How do you know you're in love with them (or anyone in general):
There they go. As flawless as they can be. Everything about them makes you smile like a kid at the carnival for the first time. You can't blame yourself because you're in love with them. How in the world did you end up here? You feel like everything in your life has happened and aligned so that you could be at this place to meet them. They were everything you wanted and needed. You are happy after a very long time.

When you hold their hand for the first time, their hands feel like the right temperature, the right size. Waves of excitement and joy rush over you and drags you under. Then, you found out that you can breathe underwater. What joy! This is the most amazing feeling ever. The first kiss. The first time you went on a date. The first phone call. The first sleepover. You will feel invincible, like nothing can kill you. You were on top of the world. It doesn't matter if someone came and knock you down. With them, you could just climb up again, no biggie.

Why do I want to live?

Every time I want to kill myself, I'd look for five reasons to not do it. I didn't want my reason to be friends, family and a bright future. I was stubborn. I wanted good reasons, reasons that will only impact my life to show that there is something to live for. For those who wonders, I try. Everything on my list is never repeated.

Once, the taste of a good juicy burger was among the five. Another time, being able to breathe in fresh air and taste the molecules at six in the morning was one. Some days I stop at three, after "I get to feel the texture of flower petals". There were not enough reasons left. Then, I let myself fall into the trap of a bad habit, which is a story for another day. Some days, I couldn't get past two. I didn't know if getting out of bed counted as one reason. I wanted to give up. I was tired.

Then, you turned up, all smiles and green contact lenses. Five months later, I asked myself, "why do I want to live?" One, you. You are everything. You are sunsets and sunrises, morning dew and night mists. You are the cold side of a pillow and a hot bowl of soup on a rainy day. You are the smell of grass after the rain and the song I sing in the shower. You are the heart that I draw on foggy windows and the red dragonfly I saw once outside a church. You are everything at once.

I still want to kill myself sometimes but since then, my list has never changed.

Cyan.

You were green.
I was blue.
I tried to be the color of your skies.
I painted landscapes with you.

You seeped through my veins,
and I now, a body of blue and cyan,
I changed and I didn't mind,
I thought you didn't mind too.

Eyelashes.

I have a problem these days. I realize I have a hard time writing. I used to be able to write about the difference between black and white, justifications on why I should eat more french fries. Now, when I write, I write about you.

My pen glides across the paper, trying commemorate everything that I could about you. For example, my favorite feature of yours is your eyebrows. I find them adorable. Whenever you look down, I like taking a peep at you because your eyelashes will be so obvious then. Unlike most, you don't need mascara to make them "stand". They do that on their own. I will be smiling to myself when you don't notice and you'll give me a "what" look.

Stars, parks and possibilities.

I want to watch the stars with you. I want to lie on top of a cheap blanket, in a park with you. We can complain about the amount of bugs that will be feasting on our very limited but tasty blood. We can also get annoyed at the possibly wet and prickly grass underneath the cheap blanket. Then, I know we'd probably agree unanimously that we'll never do that again.

However, in spite of how much we suffered, I think we'll keep going back to that spot to look at stars. We'll be smart. This time, the blankets will be around us. We'll probably be on a bench, with a blanket to keep us warm and protected, under a blanket of stars, The funny thing is that I'll probably be the one to plan this and it'll either be adorably romantic or horribly miscalculated.

Either way, I'll still want to watch the stars with you. If you'd let me, we could forget the stars for while.

To be wrong

I want to write about how you made the anxiety in my bones still. I want to write about the way the side of your eyes crinkle when you give me a mischievous smile. I want to climb on to the tallest mountains, just to scream "I love you" in to the clouds. I want to tell the world that loving someone can change so much of what you were so sure about.

Before I met you, I was so sure that the most annoying accent in the world is the mandarin accent when English is spoken. With that accent, came the complimentary broken English. I was so sure that I didn't like it. Of course, like I said, it was before I met you. Now your voice is my comfort. Your words became the Big Dipper that guides my way home when I get lost. I was so sure and then, I was wrong. And boy, I have never been this happy to be wrong.

Coffee, cakes and secrets.

I told a stranger about you today. I told her that I love someone, that I am in love with someone. We were standing in line in a coffee shop. She was nice and she looked very comfortable with that fuzzy jacket on. It was completely absurd that I was in that shop because I did not like coffee. I just wanted cake. Well, we both wanted cake. So, I went in to get cake and she was there.

She asked if I liked coffee. Obviously, my answer would be a no. Then, I told her that I have a friend who likes to try out different cakes from different shops. I knew I said "friend" but the thought of you, no matter what the title is, made me smile. I gushed that you didn't care what cake it was, it just had to be good. My mind was full of nothing but you. Cake didn't matter for a while.

I told her how you always forget that you're not alone in movie theatres. You would sit up in surprise during plot twists, with gasps so loud that people would turn to look at you. I didn't care. I held your hands and laughed while trying to get you to remember that we are among others. I told her that you think flower bouquets are a waste of money. Your ex-girlfriend got you flowers as an apology. Later, you found out that she was actually cheating on you so the flowers meant nothing. I didn't tell her that though.

I think I was whispering to myself when I talked about flowers. She smiled and asked, "Does she know?" I chuckled and nodded. A little too fast, I supposed. "You said "friend". What's stopping you?" she asked again, this time brows furrowing.

I felt my smile falter as I shrugged, "I am nothing more than another secret for her to keep."