When I first broke the news, a lot of people asked me
“Why him?”
He was different from the others . He didn’t belong to the same group like those guys I used to date.
Somehow I can’t explain that with words. There are few reasons yet I remember vividly explaining “His words captured me in a different way” and then they said “But words will eventually fade away with time. People will forget their words”
That is not the kind of words I am talking about.
We corresponded via email on the early stage. If you know me very well, you will believe when I say I used to reply emails written by stranger within few lines. Four the most, unless it’s from a girl.
But with this guy, I find my self writing pages and pages with much joy and anticipation.
It was his words. They comforted me.
They accompanied me during my dull days and it was his words that made me feel somehow, out there, somewhere there’s at least a person who truly understand and care.
Not just saying, not just pretending.
I kept all his emails and found my smile rereading them sometimes especially when he was not around.
I have my favourites, they give me the same euphoria as the first time I read them.
This one, never fail to make me smile.
Well, I think my weakness (well, one of the many weaknesses I have anyway) is really someone with a love for life. I know you hardly sound like that, with all your cruel words and your cold heart :) But the way you talk, the way you smile, plastic or not, the intention behind it, the meaning under the words you use… which I try so hard to understand… I don’t know why exactly, these are all my weaknesses.
I have heard/read so many similar lines written/said by other people but nothing sounded so convincing and soothing like that one.
In one of my emails I told him how lonely I get sometimes even most of the times I am surrounded with family and friends.
And his reply completed what I felt. The missing part that I fail to describe.
I feel so lonely too. And alone. Sometimes my crowd is the crowded markets in some foreign land, or throngs of people with fortunes a hundred times worse than mine. Sometimes my crowd is the people I work with, or the people I walk with in the streets. You recognise some of them after a while, and surely some recognise me. I know that hollow feeling. That dull beating of a tired heart.
How could a stranger know so much about what you are holding inside?
And then I told him how tired I get with men who offered their heart warmly but after sometimes let their heart froze, cold and solid as stone.
And I am not stone. Cut me and I bleed. Hurt me and I do cry. Maybe not today, when I must face the world, but surely in my sleep when I am alone.
Me too! Me too..
It’s like he dived into my heart and read and felt every single thing I have kept secret from anyone else.
He made me feel is was ok to be , to feel what I was feeling that time. He made me feel that I was not alone.
I am sorry for doing this, for putting our private moments here. This entry was written in February while I was all alone, I guess you know how crazy and not thinking I can get when you are not around.
Happy Birthday. Your words still intoxicate me until today.
♥
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