asleep among endives

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I sincerely don't know how and what to write. The last time I wrote a letter for you, you did not like it. I'm still figuring out why am I writing a letter again for you to read despite of the depressing feedback I got from you, I wonder.

Getting back, I'll try my best to only disappoint you less than the last time. While making this letter, you're probably sleeping right now because you didn't reply from my last message. Also, while making this letter, 11:11 on 01.26.24, I much absolutely know how would you react, "cringe."

I can't grasp the exact words, or I must say, I cannot express how hard it is to be vocal with you because of your boldness. Even though your choice of words oftentimes tick the sensitive part of me, I still admire it. I remember every time I point out how easy it is to me to just ignore your bully and apathetic side just because I already met someone who possesses the same energy and personality;

however, that's what I only and always thought.

Just by thinking, dealing with you is like sipping one of your favorite drink, coffee. As far as I can recall, I read a poem somewhere. In the poem, it states about a paradoxical coffee— bittersweet, a weird way to brew coffee, that's how it is to find just the right blend between joy and despair.

Getting close to you was unexpected, that's all we know, but somehow, it's worth it (than a dozen bags of tiger biscuits). As day goes by, It just occurred to me that the people on the internet whom I thought has the same personality with you is way far from crossing a busy street in the late morning. The circumstances are different, they are miles away while you're near of my touch. The chances of getting my thoughts straight are lower than our 3 generations ancestors' reading comprehension of this day's trends.

I've realized that it was easy for me to handle my emotions and cut them off immediately (the people I thought you're similar with) it's because I cannot see them: I don't even know how they smell, the food they eat, the things they always do, and the beverage they always drink.

It was and it is different with you.

I know that despite of your harsh words, the raging curses you throw, and the disgusted expression you always wear when I'm near you: I know what your favorite drink is, I know your favorite comfort food, I know that you hate me touching and sniffing you, I know that you like getting served like a damn baby or a princess, I know that you'd rather eat fried chicken again and again than eat a single fat from a pork, I know that you don't like cringey things but likes it when you're the one being cringe, I know the other small things that upsets you. Also, I certainly know how your scent leaves a significant comfort within me. But, I know that the things I know is not even a half of you. You have a lot to offer, we have a lot of things to know about you.

What about the paradoxical coffee? It's in there, the paradox, the intense regret I cannot justify if ever I won't lower my pride and emotions just to make up with you. I'd trade my last centavos just to buy that bittersweet coffee and enjoy an aromatic moments with you. I'd rather walk with you to your destination every 5 in the afternoon than bond with someone I barely know (right, i barely know you too but it's different, okay)

If ever Ella asks me again why can't I leave you alone even if you're sometimes intentionally hurting me, is this too long for an answer?

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