Dear M,
Over the past few months, I’ve been dreaming about you. Sometimes it’s once a week, but lately, it’s been almost every day. It surprises me because I thought I’d moved past the pain. Yet, my heart still feels it — lingering, haunting, like a sharp needle piercing through my chest.
How have you been? Are you still in Jakarta, somewhere under the amber skies at dawn, heading home on the train, listening to your favorite songs on repeat? Maybe with a book in hand, like always. I hope good things are happening to you. Of all the memories, prayers, and moments we shared, it was always yours that felt the most meaningful.
It was you who reminded me of all the forgotten longings buried deep within me. I realize that my love for you still lingers somewhere in my heart, amidst rivers of sorrow and the twilight of regret. When the rains come, they create a new landscape, one that makes me feel blessed, for once, we loved each other.
I’m writing this from Sleman, where golden sunlight races across the rice fields, casting its glow on the streets that seem to dance in response. The light shimmers on the banana trees, glistens in the spray of a fountain, and blends with the purple clouds.
Perhaps you could visit Jogja sometime, even just for a few days to let yourself unwind. You could try the many coffee shops scattered around the city, wander down the narrow streets of Bantul, and watch as the golden evening light deepens into amber, bathing everything in warmth. Maybe it could give you a moment to pause from the relentless march of life.
I’ll always think of you as the sweet girl I once loved. Sometimes I still picture the light flickering, gently tracing the soft waves of your hair as it sways in the breeze. And beneath your hair, the subtle gleam of your glasses — not too bright, not too dazzling, but just enough to capture a fleeting beauty, like happiness itself.
Even with my weak heart and the lost hopes I once held, I want you to know I’m happy, and I hope you are too. The weight of regrets, the mistakes I made, the pain I caused — I hope you’ve healed from all of it. I wish for you the serenity to accept what cannot be changed, the courage to change what can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
I’ll carry this cross of remorse for a long time. I know we may never be together again, and maybe we won’t even meet in this life. But for all that is sacred, for all the tears shed by mothers, for everything pure, I hope you survive the struggles you’ve kept to yourself. I hope you can move beyond the grief you silently bear.
I wish I had been there when your father passed away. I wish I could have been your friend in those moments, to console your pain, regret, grief, and loneliness. After all, what is mourning if not the heart’s way of holding on to love when everything else slips away?
Though I struggle to let you go, I know we’ve grown apart. We’ve moved past our relationship, found new values, and are becoming the best versions of ourselves. I will never be able to hate you. There will always be a time, a place, a scent, or a moment that reminds me of you. I hope, one day, I’ll learn to see those memories as small blessings — little reminders of what needed to be.
When I dream of meeting you again, perhaps it will be beneath the twilight sky, reflecting on car windows and shop displays. Streetlights flicker to life, the wind grows stronger, and the evening dances over rooftops, tiles, and leaves, settling softly onto the streets. And in the stillness of the gutters, where the stagnant water reflects the playful sky, I will remember you as my friend.
And I will always be your friend.
