Dear S*

Tonight's just another night of me wishing we were hanging out at my place like we used to, sipping on ginger ale talking about the crazy things we've done with our friends these past few semesters in college. Let me begin by confessing how bitter I've been since 'college' stole you from me. I hate that we can't afford the time and similar preferences to do the things we used to; like lounging at Papparich with our laptops for their Wi-Fi like the lazy cats we are, aimlessly browsing through books at Borders (I've watched you grow from John Green to boring psychology books) and ordering ice blended drinks in Coffee Bean, long before our generation bred coffee snobs. These days, we've stopped doing the things we used to like. I guess you could say we grew up, but I secretly think there's got to be more to us than meaningless nights at the Mamak watching you smoke cigarettes and mingling with your friends who will always seem unfamiliar to me.

You've watch me blossomed from 'spoilt brat' to a person who still doesn't know whether she has succeed in life or rather, transgressed. I thought of so much on my drive back from Perlis last night. S*, I've been thinking a lot lately, about how fond I am of you. God, I love you. And to think after everything we've been through, I'm so thankful to still have you in my life even though these petty events the universe has thrown our way is determined to make me feel like we've grown apart, (eg: commitment, priorities, expectations we can no longer meet) but the truth is you're still a 5-minute drive away and the only man in my life who always picks up his calls.

Sometimes, I stop only to realize that I'm this different person in college and I'd like to think part of it is the product of the funny friendship we've had. You correct me so much in life, be it in facts, spelling, pronunciation and even in my writing that these days I've become so wary and self conscious of almost every single thing I do. Although annoying, it is nonetheless helpful in making sure I don't screw shit firsthand. So you see, I've got a little piece of you inside me. These days I am not to mention, bitter, argumentative and skeptical which is funny because before this I never gave two hoots about how careful I have to be in everything I do. I'm not implying that you're the most careful person around, but you get what I'm saying don't you? You just aren't careless the way I am.

S*, there are only two men I would drop everything for who aren't blood-related to me and that's you and my boyfriend. My boyfriend being an obligation, I would still have to consider and think twice before I do anything for him. But for you, I am boundless. For instance, I am not prepared to go through lengths to- er, well, I can't make up any good examples of the measures I'd go through for you that I wouldn't do for my boyfriend but know this; you mean so much to me, S*.

You meant so much to me when we were 13 and stayed up late to text or ramble about the most random things on the phone. You meant so much to me when we were 14 and my first boyfriend had to move to Vietnam the same time my parents were getting a divorce. You meant so much to me when we were 15 and I had my first break-up and started dating crappy boys that could never compare to you (you are, as I always say, a fifty year old stuck in a body of an adolescent). You meant so much to me when we were 16 and I was failing every science subject in class. You meant so much to me when we were 17 and I had no idea what I was doing with my life. You meant so much to me when I was 18 and got a part-time job at Ms Selfridge hoping to spend every lunch hour I've got with you. You still mean so much to me now that I am 19 and have been on the deans list twice. I'm turning 20 next year and I know you will still mean as much to me as you did these last 6 years.

If anyone asked me what my favorite part of growing up was, I can't wait to answer them with your name. It will leave them totally clueless of who I just mentioned but you are all I've ever known growing up. Thank you.

p/s; remember that DÔME beret we stole found from across the table where we sat at Baskin Robbins? I still have it. For keepsakes.