we grew up together on a small coastal city. we walked the same roads, picked the same gravel, threw it on the same direction. we swam on the same side of the ocean then tried to drown ourselves on the very same water the next day. sometimes as a bet, sometimes in a much more genuine way. 

we went to the same middle school. they put us on the same class where we struggle with the same part of the book, argued with the same teachers, and cried in the same bathroom stalls. we fell in love with the same pretty boys and watched them fell in love with the same pretty girls. hearts shattered, bridges burned. oh well, when you're 15, no one can really blame you for loving and hating with all your might. 

we then sat with the same congregation, listened to the same bullshits. gave up our liberties to the same God. back then it was some sort of a conclusive logic. as if we were inherently bound to limit ourself. we conform ourselves to the majority and for a while it was our concept of comfort. now that we're older, somehow it's harder to believe一even if we desperately wanted to. 

despite everything, i always loved our hometown. i loved how the moon glow over the water. i loved the fireworks they set on new years day. i loved the abandoned houses all across the mountainside. i loved how we often woke up to raging typhoons and earthquakes. i loved your mother. i loved mine as well, although back then i hadn't realize it. i loved our friends, the one who would help me braid my hairs and the one who pushed me to the school fences. 

who knows. maybe it was the ghost who had kept me awake at night, flaunting about the grand lives of those who dare to pursue their wants. maybe it was their words, pierced through my head like a burning arrow. maybe it was the lack of opportunity, maybe it was the cold weather. maybe it was a stupid decision, maybe it wasn't. maybe i didn't think it all through, maybe i did. 

i wish i knew me better.

did you cry? when i left, did you wail your eyes out? 

it doesn't matter now, i wanted to tell you. i attended funerals, birthday parties, weddings, courts. i went to church. i talked to Buddha. i took medications. i learnt how to play the piano. i told men to fuck themselves. i gave up law school. i read Dostoevsky. i embraced capitalism. i looked to the mirror and failed to recognize myself. but it doesn't matter now. it doesn't matter that i'm rotting, it doesn't matter that i'm turning to a moldy carcass. i just wish you would've at least answer my calls, or my texts, or my knocks.