untitled.

I actually cannot even remember the last time I typed in English...because every time I do, I feel  like I am having a conversation with you. These days, I finally feel that you are very distant. I still think of you every single day, but I do think I am getting better. It has been more than nine months since we met? Maybe as time passes, I will finally forget how you look like, how you sound, and unlike now, I will not remember anything about you everywhere I go. 

Maybe this is really how it is like to love someone, isn't it? I never expected to become like what I am now, totally in a different world, don't know how to communicate with people anymore. I used to think that because of you, I was becoming a better version of myself. But right now, I don't know what is left of me. There is no joy, no sadness too, nothing. I wonder if I am already incapable of feeling any emotions.

That day when I watched Tuesdays with Morrie, I thought of you a lot. About the book I gave you but I guessed you never read, the forgiveness I never gave myself, the words I so want to tell you but you never gave me a chance to. 

If there is any takeaway in 2020, it is that we should always say the things we want to, to our loved ones when we have the chance... We all know these cliche stuff, don't we? We do not even need 2020 to tell us that. I have not had a chance to tell you how much you mean to me, but is there a point in saying if the feeling is not mutual? And then it stops me from saying. 

I sent out this little parcel to you, I hope and believe it is the last gift. Because what else is there left between us anyway? It means nothing really, just something that belongs to you because it was meant for you. It comes without a note because there are so many words to say, yet nothing you want to listen to. 

You know, at every 11:11, I still always pray that we could go back to like how we used to be. Like how you were my favourite person.

And still are.