Dear Joan (I forgot if this is actually your real name),
First of all, allow me to reintroduce myself. Remember December 15, 1993? You were the girl I asked for a dance during my birthday party in our Kindergarten class. I have to admit, I was just forced to dance then: one, I don’t really dance and two, I was just a budding woman hater then. I was about to cry then as I don’t really want to do that part, and Fat Gino (again, I forgot if this is the true name) was bullying me like hell once again. Then again among all the girls whom I could have chosen that day, I chose you.
And that dance was very memorable, as clear as the blue waters running deep in an unpolluted river.
Nonetheless, I became a steady woman hater throughout Grade School. Then again, I can’t help to think that you were sort of my crush (my first ever). It’s just a realization when my woman-hater instincts finally died down upon entering High School (where I began appreciating the feminine beauty). Upon some reflection, I’ve realized there was so much of me suppressing my feelings when I was young. There were happy memories and people I’ve decided to bury deep down in my consciousness that they erupted with great terrifying force after almost a decade. Bad move of me right, I’ve given myself a life sentence by guaranteeing myself an early death.
Speaking of death, I’ve heard this news when I was second year High School that if I’m not mistaken spoke of you. I heard that you passed away already. It saddens me that you’re another person in my list of already-gone-batchmates. However what makes me gloomier is the fact (well if this news really involved you) that we’ll never bump into each other again, reintroduce ourselves, take a long time to remember each other, have a cup of coffee while we share each other’s lives and laughs, and finally anticipate another dinner as we part ways after a tiring day’s work.
Yet I know you are at peace already. I hope that when we meet again in the Afterlife, we can rekindle that dance again. Promise I’ll be a good dancer this time.