I have a secret. My friend Lisa said that having secrets makes people look mysterious and beautiful. In that case, I guess I am not attractive at all.
Once your secret is told, it's not a secret anymore. That is the norm, the logic.
Yet, I feel solemn and somehow grieve that no matter how many times this secret is told, no one can help me ease the pain and regret that I have been undergoing all these years.
I miss one person, who I once thought is perfect for me but then overruled the decision.
He is there in my dreams from time to time, with the smile that looks like a smirk at times on his mysterious face. As time goes by, my adoration for him grows as well as my repentance, for not giving him more time, not being patient with him at all and not endorsing enough trust in him.
His look changes in my dream, as if he also grows older and has gained some weight too. He lives in the same dormitory chambre, which is not possible, and his complexion is worsen due to wrinkles and scarves on his face. The moment I see him, however, I still burst into tears and hold his hands, telling him how much I appreciate his understanding and all he has been giving me.
That's when I forget what I've got with me and go back to my dreams to look for him time after time.