in a retrospect, i didn't get why i was so desperate to leave that town. i would have loved to be home with you. i have always wanted it as a child's play. not in ways that is easy nor unimportant. i wanted us to be wondrous and innocent. which we did, splendidly. i guess we also did the brief and haunting part. but oh how we live and we learn. things that sparks could also burn. grief is the price for the time we've spent. a testament on how much love had been shared during those years. 

you'd think after all these times i've come to some sort of conclusion. i'd say you're too much of an optimist. you put too much faith on people, including me. it's so lonely up here, if you ever wondering. you said you had wrote me letters, hoping that the ink on your paper bleed into my heart. well, i don't recognize love unless it is spoken in a language i understand. your silence is a foreign character, a post-structuralism mess you wouldn't let me comprehend.

which is unfair. in your presence, i couldn't be more known. you could recognize my voice anywhere. you understood my hesitation. you speak my origins. you memorized my codes. it was never fair. i couldn't be more known. and yet i couldn't even map my way to your heart. i had to involve myself in this maddening guessing game. did i offend you? were you afraid? what's with the total isolation? am i not enough for you? does having me on your knees is not enough to outweigh the mortifying ordeal of being known?

i had wished and wished you would've let me open your door. i wished you would've let me in and be welcomed. i wished to learn your semiotics. to delve into the depth of your soul. to track the history of your scars. show me how rotten you are and i'll still worship you as gold. believe me when i say this. you know my words are just as true as yours. 

i wanted to know you. i wanted for us to be kids on the playground's swing set, sharing which family members had committed homicide. sharing poison recipes, ways to infiltrate underground organizations, plans to end the world. i don't want to be two adults sitting across each other in a fancy steak house. trying to keep some sort of composure upon simple small talks. "i'm doing fine now." lies. "i'm getting married next months." oh fuck you. 

how all hell had broke loose. adulting is a funeral and i would kill myself if it meant you'd finally show up on my front porch. with a bouquet of flower or with a wife on your hand, hell would i care. i just wanted to know how much you're going to stretch this out. how long your dishonesty will outlive my fidelity. i have always wanted you to be honest. i have always wanted you to be brave. i have always wanted you to have enough courage to be known.