A letter for you

Dear mal,

It's me. It's like I keep coming back to you; my thoughts keep going back to you. I supposed it's because it was real, and you were my first. The first to be mine. Mine. My heart just skipped a beat at that word. All my life I've always wanted to have someone to be called mine. And you were mine. Once upon a time ago. It was a fleeting two months, and I admit the connection between us somehow faded so quickly, but I was so happy to be yours. To call you my boyfriend. It still feels surreal now that I'm typing this, but I was so happy.

I was scrolling twitter for the past few days, and this one tweet really hit me hard. It was a message screen captured by someone, and it was "can i call you?". This phrase must be so familiar to you, right? When I saw that sentence, my brain automatically associated that with you. I miss that. I miss you asking me that. I miss the rush of giddiness I feel when I know you were gonna call. And I liked how you always asked me first. It was a gentle act, and you were always gentle. At least, you tried.

There was that moment when you came to pick me up to send me to class. And you were waiting at the side of road, completely immersed in your phone while in your car. There was a group of girls walking past, probably wondering who this car is waiting for. And I remember how proud I felt, and how jealous I wished they all were, to see me getting picked up by my boyfriend while they had to wait for the bus. It was silly, I know. But I never felt that before, and deep down I was delighted. You were wearing a formal shirt that day, and your face was burnt from the sun. You had a beach day with your mates during the weekend, and I remember how you were embarrassed about how your skin looked but to me you looked fine. It's not that bad, I told you.

And remember that one time you wanted to send me food as you were running errands around the colleges? I was having an extra class that night; at L50. Do you remember how nervous you were? You were wearing a clean white buttoned up shirt, and I haven't seen you that close in a long time. You called when you arrived, and I had to get out from the class for a moment to see you. I couldn't find you at first, and I was too shy to walk down the stairs because there were so many guys with their motor bikes there. You understood and said "hold on" and got out of the car. I plucked up the courage and went down anyway and there you were, holding a food container inside a plastic bag. I was nervous too to be honest, but I tried to remain calm. And it was reassuring to see that you were somehow nervous too. We exchanged a few words, I wish I remembered. But it was a fast one, and then I was already bidding you goodbye. I remember you said I looked good afterwards, even though I wore a tudung bawal that night and it was the most barai look I could muster.

I know there's not many memories to write here, but I'd like to start with that. I kind of miss you now, and the way you made me feel. Is that selfish?