Blunt

Eff

{November 20th, 2010}

Dear Eff,

I feel silly, writing a letter to you, though I know you'll never read it. Not that you'll ever know that I wrote a letter to you.

But I feel like writing one, just to express how I really feel, to make me not forget about the good and bad times we had together. And I know we weren't together as in together like a couple, but just together together like a pair of classmates who accidentally got paired up for the art class, but I still like to think that we had been together.

I miss our late night, long chat. Don't you? Well, I suppose you don't feel the same, since talking (or chatting) to me is boring... like, really, really boring. I have no stories to share, my jokes are lame, and I mostly don't know what to say so you need to be the one to keep the conversation alive. For that, I'm sorry. I'm not much of a people person, actually. Or a chatterbox. Or both. I feel awkward and embarrased and I just know that I'll end up saying something wrong in the middle of our chat and I'll mess things up. I'm fucked up just like that. I'm sorry.

But I like - not liked - chatting to you. You make me feel like I'm worthy of being talked to. When you greeted me in our little chatroom, it felt like buttetflies found their way into my stomach. Or it was probably mammoths, as butterflies are such small creatures that I doubt they could make a ruckus as big as the one I felt. When you asked me how I feel that day, or what was I doing because you ran out of the things we could talk about - I felt terribly happy I could literally jump off from the roof and fly to the fire colored sky. But of course, I had no courage to jump off from the roof or ask the same thing to you. I didn't know why but when I tried to ask the same thing to you, blood would come rushing into my head and I would feel dizzy. It was oddly amusing.

You are seriously pretty, Eff. And though I know you'd prefer handsome or cool, since you are a man afterall - I like to think that you are pretty. Your angular jaws and broad shoulders, they made me think how such a pretty human can also be full of dominance. You had brown, warm eyes, the color which gives me assurance most - unlike bright green, another color I like but gives a sense of challenge more than safety. And though I know it sounds silly, Eff, I used to watch you from the side of the basketball court, paying attentions to your lips - they're so pretty, and not disney princess like pretty, but more of that international model pretty. Perhaps you are more beautiful than pretty.

I like the way you flex your fingers after a class ended. Let's be honest here, I have a bit of a hand fetish. And your hands were exactly my type; big hands, with long, bony fingers and rough skin. I used to imagine the moment your hand touches me, brushing against my skin, sending electrical jolts. I wanted to snuggle my face against your palm; but of course, I couldn't and wouldn't do it. It's sad enough that we don't even talk to each other anymore, and I don't need to ruin our relationship any further. Okay, sorry, I completely understand if you find this gross.

But seriously. Do you remember when you grabbed my wrist during the economy class? When you pleaded for me to help you with the questions and I wanted to ditch you, and suddenly you held of my left wrist? I felt shocked, surprised, and extremely petrified because I just had to fucking go red all the way to my ears. My vision even turned red and all blury! If the situation was to be made into a parody, I would be a horny bull, and you'd be the sexy as heck matador. No, I'm being dead serious.

By then, I finally understood what people meant by "a burning touch". My wrist was literally burning, right where you grabbed me. Your touch boiled my blood to the point my head was ready to explode. I felt hot! It wasn't like when others touched me. You could be touching me with a torch and I wouldn't be able to tell the difference. And boy, how it felt good. Your hand felt exactly as good as I imagined it to be.

Off topic, but it's related to you, so I guess it's not really an off topic.

Do you remember when you began to message me again, after a long three months of no chatting, and I didn't reply for days because I honestly didn't know you messaged since I broke my phone?

When I opened our chatroom and saw your message, my heart jumped a little. But at the same time, sadness washed over me, since I had decided to forget about our little moments together. I had told myself to move on, to give up on such a pointless obsession. And then you messaged me. Again.

You called out my name and sent a depressed-looking sticker in our chatroom, and so I didn't know how to react. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Are you heart broken? Did someone dump you? There were millions of questions I wanted to ask in my head. I wanted to figure out what were you feeling when you sent those messages.

But being the coward I am, I sent a simple reply without any trace of affection. I wanted to look like I had moved on, and detached from the past. I was moving to another school, and since I wouldn't be able to see you anymore, I decided that it would be best for me to act like I had forgotten about us.

It breaks me, even now.

Hey, Eff, I'm sorry for my rambling. This letter is supposed to be a letter dedicated to you, yet I keep talking about my feelings...

Okay, so let's focus on you instead.

Do you remember when you suddenly turned up at school one day, after getting heartbroken over Michelle, and our first class was art though we weren't in the same group anymore?

You looked so broken and sleepless, with dark eyebags around your then-cold brown eyes. The broken you made me feel scared, made me realize that even someone as strong as you can be hurt. But you showed up that day, not missing any class. You showed me a feeling I can't quite decipher.

And then when others looked at the broken you, they just laughed and talked behind your back and even sneered at you. I felt powerless. Useless. I couldn't help you ease the pain and I couldn't stop them from being such an arse. I couldn't put my arms around you and whisper things like "It'll be okay" or "everything is going to be fine". I could only watch you being laughed.

I don't know what's more pitiful, the sight of your heartbroken self or the fact that even though I went through an even worse path because of you, I still wanted to comfort you.

Eff, do you still remember the piece of paper you got from the graduation trip?

I think you've probably forgotten about it, but I will still talk about it anyway. I wrote the message on that paper. You were, are, and will always be the brightest star in my universe, though there are times when your shine darkens. You guided me through my hard times with faint traces of hope. Your name even assured me that I'd do well in that water rocket competition. I wrote your name on my wrist, literally.

Please remember to always take care of your hope. Remember to stay away from cigarettes and drugs. I know that when things go bad, it hurts. I know how bad it feels to make you want to gouge both your eyes out and claw at your chest because the pain just won't stop. I know just how frightening it feels it makes you want to scratch at your skin until it peels off. I can not tell you how horrible I used to feel, since it won't do you any good. Please, just please, remember to take care of your body when everything else tries to hurt you.

It's a big thing, but I know you keep your promises.

P.s: I still like to think that we could be lovers one day. Someday.