I have a secret...

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I have a secret. There's no one to tell it to but myself. In my darkest hour, I would dream of that person who I would tell this secret to and what his reply would be. In my dream he would smile and say something so wonderful that I my heart would burst into a giant firework display for all to see. Everything would be great. But that was just a dream.

For him, his dream was in a different place. But he said he had thought it through. He has make his decision. He wants to marry her. And he's moving to California with her. Her family's rich and he's going to work in her family business. He had said those words with a smile on his face. Not a happy smile but a sad one. He had looked down on the linoleum floor of the mall. The patterns were triangular and dirt has filled the gaps. He was shuffling his boots from one triangle to another. His hands tuck into his jean's pocket. He looks up and straight at my left shoulder as he speaks. He wanted to said goodbye and thank me for being such a great friend. He also said he had always admired me and that he's grateful that I had helped him these past three years. I said it was no problem, he's my friend. I was glad I could help him. His last words were, 'Bye.' Just before he leave, he had looked into my eyes. He then walked off casually. Standing there at the mall with hundreds of other people watching. That was where we said our goodbyes. It was normally the place where he would treated me to lunch. This time it was just another place to said goodbye to an old friend.

That was his way. He didn't want to make a fuss. He didn't want any tearful goodbyes. It was true I was just a good friend. He had often said if I was a blond he'll probably go out with me. I wasn't his type or the girl of his dream. I wasn't someone who takes risk or had any spontaneous urges to jump out of airplanes or climb mountains. I don't have a fortune to my name. I don't drive. I don't have any families or friends to speak of. I just have a desk job and a crumbly apartment building that was left to me by my grandmother.

For the three years that I have known him, he never once said thank you or ask how I was feeling. I was never ask and I never brought it up. Now he's gone and I am left with nothing but my memories even if they were not particularly good memories. I had shelter and let him stay at one of the apartment without paying rent. I bought him groceries and helped him do his laundry. Occasionally we hang out at the laundry mat and speak of our childhood or our future plans. I didn't have much to said. He did most of the talking.

He asked for favors and I gladly helped him. He was always talking about getting rich and living the luxurious lifestyle. He often gamble on horses and lost many card games. His get-rich schemes never seem to work. He often came to my apartment all beaten up, sometimes even bleeding from places you never thought he could. After I brought him back to health, he would just left and start whatever mess he can get himself into. He always said he would pay me back for the rents but he never did. He often gave me small tokens - as 'gift of appreciations' he said. Little tokens like a tiny statue of an angel and a music box with a ballet dancer. He once brought me a new television set but then he was the one that broke my old one. Memories, what are they good for now?

To no one, is who I will tell these things to. What would it matter now that he's gone. I can only speak out loud what I could not said when that person's gone from my heart and mind. Even thousands of miles of space separate us cannot change the feelings that I have bottle inside me. For now, it is just another hurdle I need to get over.