Three to Seven.

I know him since I was born. We fought a lot yet we still played together. We shared toys and food and bed and even bathtub. We cried together because we made each other cried. We laughed together because we made other kids cried. He's older but I was always braver. He was afraid of dark, I wasn't. I yelled a lot, he didn't. I bullied him sometimes, he bullied animals all the time.

As we grew up, we fought less. I turned out to be so talkative and loud, yet he changed the other way around. He was a quiet person; he wasn't that friendly, in fact he was a shy boy during our teenagers' time. We were different, completely. I started to feel there was a huge invisible gap between us but none of us really bothered. We seldom met each other and we felt nothing was wrong with that.

Now we are young adults. We have matured feelings. We gained more and more beautiful memories. We appreciate each other. We became aware and concerned on what's happening to each of us. We knew we've been wasting so much time ignoring each other. We value each other's gifts and compliments. And the last time we met, he told me how much he missed me.

I missed him too. I tried to tell him that, yet I was choke by my own words. They failed to slip off from my lips, so I just threw him a broad smile.

If I am to say what I have to tell him, I would tell him he's part of me since the day he was born, not the day I was. I would tell him how much I loved him during the days we squabbled a lot; it was how I expressed it even though I knew he hated it so much he couldn't find any words he could throw back at me. I felt like winning, but there was a chill inside my stomach. An emotion of guilty I tried to take no notice of. He ought to know that. To know how much I didn't enjoy it at all.

I love him. As much as I love my ibu and abah and Iena. I hated it when I was told he's not as healthy as I am. I wanted him to know he should take care of that, do whatever he could to make sure he doesn't have to bring us news we never wanted to hear. I can take care of myself, so he better does the same thing.

And then I met a friend while I was running up the stairs, sweating. She was standing in front of her door, asking what happened. I was breathing fast when I told her I didn't have my room key and I need to get in. And that was it. A few days later, God knows what had been decided, and she became my roommate.

She was not that quiet eventhough she looked like one. When I first knew her, I couldn't help smiling when she started talking. It was the dialect she used. Dialect me myself should've used. But as time went by, she didn't have it anymore. I missed it... kind of.

I love her. She is the kind of friend who will be there whenever you need her. She is the type of companion who refuses to say no. You'll love her if you are close to her and you know she loves you too. She forgives and she forgets; at least that's what I believe. She listens to all kinds of crap I talk and she laughs over the jokes I make. Eventhough it sounds silly, or I look stupid. She does not care. I don't care too... because I am good at looking stupid. She knows that too.

She introduced her friend to me and we three became good friends. So good, we fought a few times. Yes, only good friends fight because we want the best from each of them. That's what happened. We love our memories, we love our laughter and yeah, we don't take bad memories as we moved on.

As time passed by, I met another friend. We shared the same nickname. I have no problem with that. It wasn't my first time my nickname got ‘stolen'. My first impression on her was she looked damn friendly. I wish I could be like her. Easy to be approached by other people, know when to crack jokes at the right time. Those kinds of things I wish I had too.

I miss her so much. So much until when I remember her, my smile will straightly fade away. It hurts, I do not know why. One thing for certain, I wish I could tell I am truly sorry for failing to be a good friend. For failing to show my support when she needed one. And whenever I remember those sad moments of hers, my chest hurts, I feel sorry for myself. If there's any kind of punishment I should receive, I would say nothing but yes.

Last few weeks, she came to my home. Her visit is like once in a lifetime and as a so-called-friend, I was not around. She left me a small note on my bedroom's door saying she misses me. I took it and pasted it on the wall next to my mirror. So I could read it every morning before I go out to work. It is somehow a beautiful torture I endure so much.

And how on earth these three people connect in one story when they barely know each other?

It's their special date they share. 7th April.

So to my brother, Along, my best buddy, Sha and my friend I love so much, Shamam,


Happy Birthday.



I love you so much!!




p/s: I’ve to backdate this entry to 7th April since I’ve written it on their special day yet I didn’t have time to publish it.