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2013-12-16 - 5:39 p.m.

Hey, you! Yeah, I�m talking about you. Do you know who you are to me?
I can say quite a lot about you � even if we�d only got to work together for just four months. Believe it or not, sometimes it doesn�t take long for one to notice how good you really are. Don�t be too surprised, since I�m not the only one feeling this about you.
It doesn�t need one to hang out all the time with you to discover what a good friend you are. You�re simply being the genuine you.
From the first time we met, I could already sense something good about you. I knew I could trust you, so that�s why I gave you the link to where my blog is. You�ve told me that you still haven�t got a chance and time to read this � and that�s okay. I don�t expect too much; we�re all busy these days. (I don�t get to write here everyday too anyway.)
However, if you ever get to read this, may I ask you something? Please, don�t hate me. After all of this, I still want us to be friends. I�ve never asked for any of these feelings. I�ve never wanted any of this.
That�s why, strangely, I felt relieved that we�d never got to sit close at work. I was somehow glad � and also sad � that we didn�t get to hang out more often like you had with the boys at work.
I�ve been hiding these feelings from you. (I wish for them to go away soon and leave me in peace with my single life.) Why? I could never say this to your face � and never will, even under a gunpoint. I love you. It�s sad but true. I know you�re love has already belonged to someone else and you only think of me as an amazing friend. (Thank you for that, by the way. I really appreciate it and you always remain humble.)
And I choose to stick to my own code of honour: never chase someone else�s love. (I did a pretty good job, eh?) I value relationships, especially one as strong as yours with her. Five years ain�t short these days, man. Good job! Keep working on it.
Remember that Monday night at Pizza e Birra? You�d been saying to me:
�I don�t know you that well, but I can tell that you�re very special. Someday, someone is going to feel very lucky to be with someone like you.�
Really? I know you really meant that. I still believe you did. I�ve been hanging to your words ever since, despite my lack of faith in love.
Pray for me, please. No need for you to feel bad about this, because my feelings are my own responsibilities.
I know what you mean about how we sometimes feel that the grass looks greener on the other side. And yes, I can always spray-paint mine.
Remember that rainy, Saturday night in October � while we were caught in the traffic on a cab with Tony B? You�d asked me what could break my heart and this was my answer:
�Reality.�
�Reality?�
�How you realise that your father may never be the same again.�
You fell silent when I told you about him, your beautiful, blue-green eyes radiating concern. Tony B. had been quiet on the front seat, but I knew he was also listening. He always does.
Then you told me about the time you�d volunteered at the old people�s home for two years in Holland. My God, you really are a rarity!
�Perhaps it�s different with you,� you said. �I felt sympathy for them, but I didn�t know them personally. I�d never even met them when they were still healthy.�
�Maybe.� I shrugged again. You smiled at me, very warmly.
�See, this is what I really like about you guys here,� he complimented. �If an older relative falls sick, you guys work together in looking after them.�
Yeah, I thought as I smiled back � rather sadly � at him. Noble Indonesians.
I like your girl too, seriously. She�s so sweet. She loves you a lot too, which is most important. You two should really belong together.
Of course, I�ll be attending your wedding too. It�s on March 1 next year, right?
When you first told me you were leaving the country, I was overcome with mixed emotions. Too soon. Only four months. Why?
When you showed me your scarred arms � dark, red scratch marks � I could only nod with understanding. Your allergies. It sucks that the weather and the pollution here kept hurting you that way.
I had to go home right away that night after that. I didn�t want anybody to see me cry. No way.
The next day after that, they started asking you about it. They said they�d heard rumours about it. As you confirmed them, it got me thinking:
Was I the first person you�d notified at work about it?
Why had I been rather quiet that Tuesday night during your farewell dinner? Too tired, I guess. I�d also been trying to masquerade my sadness from you.
I�m used to walking down the streets on my own at night, but thank you and Deniz for having played gentlemen very well with me after dinner. You deserved hugs from me!
Then I�d fallen sick that Thursday, thought I still insisted on coming to work. It was your last day at work. I thought I could hide it from you until Monica � who�d helped me with my medication the night before � blurted it out.
The last time we talked face-to-face, you looked worried. (I�m sorry.) You touched my forehead and claimed that I�d felt strangely warm. I tried to joke: �Literally or else?�
�You�re really warm.� You frowned. �Are you sure you�re okay?�
�Yeah.� My voice was shaky now. I was afraid I couldn�t fake it any longer. �Probably I�m just tired.�
�Aww, Supergirl.�
�I don�t feel super right now.� I smiled weakly. �Take care, buddy.�
It was the last time we hugged. I closed my eyes and pursed my lips, holding back my tears. You felt so warm too.
�You too.�
�I�ll see you in March next year, okay?�
�Of course. We�d love to see you there. We�d be honoured.�
I know why I love you � and I�ll never regret that, eventhough when you�ll never be the one for me.
Take care.
Love,
R.

 

 

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