Or should I begin with, "Dear..."? 

It doesn't matter, does it? It feels weird to writing to you again. After all those thousands of words spilled out only for you, now I begin asking why I ever wrote at the first place. After all these years I've spent waiting, now I'm asking myself :

Was it ever worth it? 

Writing to you feels weird because I've stopped writing to you and/or for you. Why should I dedicate anything who won't even bother with my existence? And it made me stop writing in general. I started writing on my journal the day you left and now I barely write anything on it. And I know the chance is you won't read this. And it simply means you won't reply. And it makes me feel like I'm a young adult with an imaginary friend....... Well, was it only in my imagination? Was it even real? After all, I'm used with your shadow, after the day you went way, what any other thing you left other than your shadow? 

Ah, and memories. the ones that I threw away years ago. You were supposed to take it but you refused to accept it. But, after all the things that ended up in empty bin, did it stop me from remembering? 

No, the answer is no. Of course I began to forget the voice or the little things you did. I began to forget the exact words of our conversation, or how it really ended. But I remember that it hurt. I remember I cried on my way back home. I remember I asked you to translate the word "goodbye" and all you said was "see you". I remember when we were on the phone and you told me that you would come home soon. I remember how big the moon when we met for the last time, never knowing that I'd never get the chance see you again.... at least until now. 

Even the not talking, not seeing each other part didn't stop me from remembering. Crazy, right? How come you ever meant that much? How come, that in everyone I ever meet with the same name like you, I'll get the flashback again? How come, that in everyone who comes to my life, I will always try the similarities in you? Since you left, I'm being allergic to the word 'goodbye'. And the crying part, it made me promise that I'd never cry and be that stupid again. And it made me be the one who leaves, because I'm fed up being the one who's left. How come you ever meant that much when you actually came in my life for a glimpse, like ...... literally? How come that after all the warning signs you've given to me, I chose to deny it? 

You meant that much probably because you left me one last thing, the most precious one : the gift of leaving. You taught me the word 'goodbye'. You woke me up from my childhood fantasies of happy ending and taught me reality. And in the shortest time we ever spent, you changed my whole life. And of course it hurt, because it actually mattered. For years, I told myself that if you wanted to stay, you would. I always put myself as a victim, because it wasn't easy to be the one who is left. All those rules, all those walls, all those borderlines I've ever made to protect myself from being hurt again. All those scenarios I've ever made to anticipate the ending itself. 

The difference now, this year I'm being the one who leaves. Maybe it's because of you, maybe it's not. And now, putting myself on your shoes, I begin to understand it was a gift after all. Goodbye will always reveal and be the test how much someone means to you, or how much you ever mean to that someone. I've learned that people leave, that sometimes people grow apart, that life always comes in twos, hello and goodbye. Being brave enough to have the hello simply means you'll meet the goodbye in one end and be brave enough to swallow that reality. That everything in life is temporary after all. Even the ones I thought who would never leave....... And even the ones I thought whom I would never leave ......

And all that I can is to be grateful for the times when I still can be together with the ones I love. Or the times I've had with the ones who left or the ones I left. Be grateful because even the hardest goodbyes can reveal that I still have important people in my life who made the goodbye seemed so hard. I've learned that it is equally hurt to leave, as it is to be left. 

I was supposed to write this few days ago. I've stopped counting but I still remember, though. I gotta say that it doesn't hurt anymore. In fact, I don't feel anything at all. Is it because I've finally let you go? Hopefully. I don't know where you are right now, or what you do, or whether you will ever read this or not. But I want to say thank you for your existence, even in the short period of time in my life. I don't know was it actually a fate for us to meet, or was it actually God's plan to put you in my life. Or was it actually by chance or was it simply a coincidence (though I refuse to believe in it)? Either way, I've learned a lot from you. And even when it hurt, I'm still grateful for it. I don't know if I ever mean something, anything to you. But you once meant a lot to me. And I hope you happiness that you will get the bright future you used to love talking about. I can't imagine if one day our paths align once again, it'll probably completely awkward because by then, we'll be completely strangers, but if it's still possible, we can sit and have coffee and talk as old friends and laugh. 

This feels weird, really. But this supposedly be my very last open letter to you. 

Me.