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The Letter
This went on for 2 weeks. By then, my clothes were soiled and my dreams were nowhere in sight. So I sat down to pray again, and I saw a poster: Poverty Foundation - Aid to the Homeless & Unemployed. I took my cue and went in search of that place, which happened to be nearby. With no strings attached (ie no family problems, no history of violence, alcoholism and abuse) and with a 'refugee' status, the Foundation worked a miracle on earth and found me a job, as well as providing shelter until my income could sustain me. This was how I got my job at Olivo's Bakery. At the Foundation, it was a happy and yet depressing place. The staff there taught me how to budget my funds, so that I would be able to survive and spend wisely when I moved out of there. They gave me meals, of which I never took much, but left more for my friends who seemed to need more than me. Friends! They were my first. The time we spent together was short, for I had worked hard and saved a lot to move out. I still remember those days when we had to grab blankets and sleep out in the lounge on stormy nights, for our bedroom ceilings were leaking. No one got much sleep, but we exchanged stories and had each other's company. They always marvelled at my peaceful nature, for they came from hard and bitter lands and were constantly stressed about their living. I gave them what I could - my compassion, peace and blessings. I would never know the sort of impact I had on them, but their impact on me was profound. I deeply felt their weariness, their troubled hearts and their burden, and I never forgot that sort of depression that had caught on even though I was free of worries of my own. With the help of the Foundation, I rented a small studio apartment at the public housing, and moved out after bading farewell to my friends. I continued my job at the bakery, and perhaps due to my diligence and peaceful nature, Mrs Olivo took pity on me. She raised my pay, saying I brought in more customers, and gave me the leftovers of the day to bring home. Having never needed to eat much, I saved quite a bit, and had plans to enter a part-time course in pattiserie. And then I met you. You were that man who walked past the bakery just before the morning crowd to grab a coffee from the cafe next door. I had always noticed you, because even though you were not my customer, you were always nearly alone on the streets, before the morning crowd hit. I always noticed you, because unlike everyone else in that morning working crowd, you did not seem to dread the work ahead of you. You were always carefree and eager to receive your cup of coffee. Yes I noticed you, and wondered why you were different. And then one morning, you walked in to Olivo's. Curiosity touched my mind, and I went over to serve you. From then on, conversation started, and we went out, and before we knew it, we were in a relationship. I was right about you from my first impressions. You were carefree even though you had full of things to do, and your job kept you busy. You had true and sincere friends, for whom you were always there when they needed you. You treated everyone with respect, especially me. Though you were an morally upright person, you also had plenty of compassion. I cannot begin to describe how deeply I fell for you, and God knows what it was that I had, but you felt the same way for me as well. Soon, we were living together. And life progressed from being peaceful to blissful. Before I knew it, I had sold my soul to you. Perhaps the start of all our troubles began with my worship of you. No man was meant to worship anything else but God, and I made that deadly mistake of idolising you. It was no fault of yours; you can't help being that perfect person you are. Even I had not begun to realise it until things fell apart. Though I maintained my job at the pattisserie, I was often distracted and gradually put no enthusiasm in to my work, for I was eager to get home to you, and unwilling to be separate from you at all. Things escalated, and soon I was facing a kind yet stern warning from Mrs Olivo's to 'buck up' my work. Honestly I tried, and things did pick up a bit, though never to the same person I was before. I told myself I was happy, but deep down I subconsciously knew that it wasn't just my work woes that put me in discontentment. Perhaps that was why I picked up that application form and signed up for that pattisserie part-time course. You were very supportive, as usual, and I ought to be have been happy about that, but I was not content with your reaction. I would be very busy studying, and perhaps I wanted you to be possessive over me, to want to spend more time with me. And it was the same when you went out with your friends, which was getting far and few between. I was moody when you went out, and yet I never wanted to join you on your social gatherings. This has gone on for a while, and you know it. Thank God, I finally saw the whole picture, on the night when I threw a fit and dashed out of the house, just so you would be worried. I was running, and you were looking for me, when I met my old friend John, from the Foundation. I called out to him, and he hardly recognised me. The first words he said were, "What happened to you?" I could not think of an answer, and tried unsuccessfully onto other topics of conversation. Soon, we baded each other goodbye, and I walked away. Slowly, realisation crept it. I could not talk to him. I could no longer communicate. I was no longer at peace, neither had I the compassion and interest to want to interact. I was self-centered, and I was lost. Coming here hasn't been easy. I remembered my first train ride, and the first time I flew on a plane. I had wondered why it took so long to travel. I cannot find myself, and my loss of direction is weighing you down. I do not want you to become like my first friends were - poor in spirit, with a house but no peaceful home to return to, and earning income that can never buy you happiness. I want you to find yourself, the person you were when I first met you - carefree and rich in joys and peace. So I am leaving to where I came from, to give you the space to find yourself. I have tasted the life of a normal human being. You may argue that I have not fulfilled my dreams; afterall I never made it to baking school. But my dream was to love. True, I have not perfected the art of living or the art of loving unconditionally, but I have tasted both. I would have liked to remain longer to master both life and love, but I would no longer risk the consequences with you. It is time to go. As with my arrival, so would my departure, be for love. When you return to this house, you will no longer find any trace of me. Everything that I have had will be gone. Check the drawers, the cupboards, and even the trash - you will not find anything that belonged to or were used by me. Talk to your friends, and you will find that they will not remember me. They will not have it in their memories that you were attached, and to them you will always be what they knew you as. It's your chance to continue from where you left off before I came into your life. Do not bother looking for me, for I cannot be found. I'm sorry that this is perhaps cruel, but all you will have left is this letter and your memories of me, no matter how hard you try. To your anguish, even your memories will fade, and in the future, you will only remember me and the life we shared as a dream. Without knowing why, you will remember that you should never give your soul away, to anybody or to anything. I hope this dream has been beautiful. Keeping your love, Your Angel
5.moon.sky was here at 7:10 pm
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