Day 28: Dear J,

My skin,

you have burned.

Scars,

you have left.

So beautiful,

they became constellations.

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Day 27: Dear J,

You’re pretty much different from the men in my history books. You don’t marvel on prose and poetry. You don’t see words afloat the dark space in front of you before sleeping at night. You aren’t interested in their magic and power.
It’s really strange that I like you.

Day 26: Dear P,

Our pre-school yearbook is a narrative of how our story began. Our high school yearbook can attest to how much we have changed. But stories need not always be inscribed in pages. Memories need not always be in photos.

Change, growth, maturity – they actually came after sheets were bound.

Day 25: Dear A,

I used to run away from you every time. I even left my bento just because you were headed my way at the cafeteria one afternoon. I used to give you hundreds of lame excuses why it is impossible for us to have lunch together. I rejected thousands of your calls, I even had my sister pick up my phone instead.

But guess what? I voted you for the University Student Council even though you were among the yellows. Perhaps, that’s the sweetest I could do.

Day 21: Dear V,

Remember our words after our songs at the karaoke one February night? It was a sad yet comforting exchange. Your words were raindrops falling into my old rotten well of words. You didn’t cry. It wasn’t necessary. Your words bled for you.

Tables have been turned. Last year was my year, this year is yours. Mine has become the raindrops, yours has become the well.

Day 20: Dear I,

You’re one of the men I believe I am required to write a long letter to. But you’re tired of reading too much stuff I’d rather save you one later.

That makes this note-writing project perfect for you. I wouldn’t write you long and winding sentences. I wouldn’t dedicate you music-like compositions. I wouldn’t string together beads of words for you.

Just that, you probably know what I ought to say. You never read my mind, you listen to my heartbeat instead. And this: Ours will always be one of my favorite friendships.

Day 19: Dear N,

I remember you as one of the people who worried too much about me going some place else for college. You used to warn me of the climate and scares of the city. You told me I was a stubborn kid for pushing through.

You used to call me at exactly twelve noon every midweek. But gradually, they declined, until I never get to talk to you again.

Nobody knows where you are now.