To you:

Hey.

How are you?

I suppose you'd be surprised with my handing you this letter if I'm being oh-so-sarcastic about it – but really,you shouldn't be. You called for this anyway. You're the reason why I stopped doing what I should just so that I could write this ridiculously stupid letter, in the hopes of making this clear between us. If there were an 'us' that is, but I'll get into that later.

You introduced yourself to me while we were in class with your hair long and curling on your nape. You told me your name and I told you mine. We exchanged pleasantries. You smiled at me back then and joked aboutdestiny and "who would have thought we'd be born in the same month?" as though it was inconceivable and that's when I knew. I just knew that we would have something special. It was one of those moments. Those moments that really meant something to someone like me.

And so we evolved. I was there when you needed someone to confide with, laugh with, cry with… and you were the same to me as well. We were friends; "Real. Through thick and thin", you said. Through sorrow and happiness; through fire and ice; through life and death, we were exactly that: Friends till the end. And I believed you because I thought the same, or at least I did or do or more. I don't know. Sometimes I forget.

But then people started to come up to you or me asking if "we" were any more than that. They would giggle and tell us how romantic it would be for both of us to fall into each other's arms. They would sigh and look at us with admiration of our closeness… and yet, wondered why we were never really one. I could see the logic in their opinions, because admittedly I had found myself wondering too at least once or twice. But I never said anything because it would be wrong to assume. To talk out of place about something I couldn't understand myself.

Every time, you would answer: "No. This is as far as it will be." And I would only smile and nod as those people scampered away. You would take my hand during those questions, molding and squeezing close to yours. This act fueled everyone's suspicions about us even more but then you never seemed to care about that either. You'd just hold my hand. And I would just let you.

We were friends after all. Why should we be ashamed about something as simple as "hand holding"?

But things changed and I think for the most part, you knew it would. I think you even anticipated it because you knew me too well… you knew too well to know how my feelings would change into something more.

You weren't just a friend to me. You were more than that. More than just the boy who could make me laugh over stupid things that never matter. I had given in to a feeling. I had loved. I loved you. The feelings changed one day… and you knew about it before I could even admit it to myself. And as always your only response to knowing was a shrug that meant to say it didn't matter.

But it did. Does. And yet all you could offer me was a smile.

I suppose I owe you my cynicism these days. It came when we realized this wasn't going to work.

We never talked about it. We just agreed without saying. The conversation took place by only looking and touching. Nothing more. And I hate how you know exactly what's on my mind and I know what's going on in yours. It's unfair really, to be close to someone you care about so so much and not act on it because it wasn't (isn't) proper. But it wouldn't work. You know that and I do too.

So now that you're away, my heart feels a little less pained. It doesn't wait up in the dead of the night aching. And I don't think about the "what-could-have-been" situations that I know now will never ever happen.

I'm not as pathetic as everyone probably thinks I am–pining over you or whatever. I've never been one to be so weak. I'm better than that..

I've never wished for more. I love you, but I am not waiting.

We were as inevitable as the first day we met. Love wasn't in the cards we decided to play with, and I should have known better than to feel the way I did… or do.

I love you. But goodbye is all there is left to say.