Letter four

Dear Myungsoo

How are you? Are you happy?

I don't know what that means anymore.. it consists of teeth showing, mostly, cheekbones being pulled up; the act of smiling, and laughter, lots of laughter, right? But i don't remember what it feels like - light heartedness, maybe, giddiness- something of the sorts.

A few days ago at school the teacher asked us to write a list of what makes us happy. Can you imagine! I stared unblinkingly at my almost stark white paper. Then to my utmost fright she asked me to read what I've written. I smiled politely, bowed and said I'd like not to share. I added a shy chuckle for the extra measure. The teacher joked that I was overprotective over the secret that made me a happy-go-lucky guy- i felt like she was talking about another person entirely but i smiled nonetheless. My classmates eyed the paper enviously, their murmurs reached my ears. The irony! If only they knew the stuff i wrote were downright depressing.

If only they knew my paper was almost empty safe from two lines. The first had 'spending time with' crossed over. The second had a name. Your name. Myungsoo.

How sad.

So, pray tell me, how can i possibly tell them that?

After class I lingered a bit, taking more time to arrange my books and stuff, I wanted to stay, but seeing as there were prying eyes from some  classmates, I figured the library was a better place. People can be nosy and a nausea sometimes. They're too greedy and silly; they envy my happiness without knowing what it is.

The library was way better, it was quite, safe from occasional paper shuffling sounds, the smell of ink and paper somewhat had set me at piece; it was eerie. The seat i took was near a half-opened window, the sun light filtered through it, dust swirled in the rays like tiny golden specs. It flew and swayed and went higher, i was mesmerized and kept looking, I thought it resembled me; a grain of dust lost in this vast world. But after more observing i didn't like it; once a dust grain reached higher i kept losing sight of it, it just vanished. It was the fate of all the dust.

( How cruel it must be, to feel like a tiny grain of dust.)

I pulled the paper and started filling it with your name. As silly and pathetic as it might sound but you were the only thing that could make me happy (and sad at the same time). So I started rigorously drawing your name all over. Each time with different curves and style. I was trying hard to capture you on that paper -again, as silly as it might sound- the curve of your smile; your dimple; the twitch of the vein above your eyebrow when you're mad; your dorkyness; stubborness; bashfulness; softness; your everything. It was a hard task, to say the least.

I wasn't satisfied until all the whitness truned into blackness, ink weaved letters covering the parchment. I folded it carefully and clutched it dearly, then put it in the pocket on the upper left side of my shirt. Thinking this would be my happy charm.

PS: I hope you never have to resort to such pathet method. And that if you ever do it'd be my name that it's filled with. Most importantly I hope that you're happy.

what makes you happy guys? What is your happy charm?