Dear you,

These were the days before I met you.
It was... ordinary.
I woke up, worked, smiled, ate, and went home — the same routine, over and over again.
Days filled with work, occasional meetups with friends, small talk, and a few polite smiles. Bland, really.
And somewhere deep inside, there was always a hollow space that I could never seem to fill.

I wasn't happy, but I wasn't sad either. I didn't share much with anyone — I just handled everything on my own. Haha, well, I guess I got used to it.

My job was stable. I guess I'm more lucky than talented. Honestly, getting this job was 80% luck. It's fine, though. My coworkers are kind, and my boss is really nice to me. Maybe that was the best part of my life back then.

I had friends, but they didn't really understand me. They often made fun of me — said everything I did was weird. I thought they were joking, but sometimes their words stung. Still, I didn't care much. I just wanted to do and buy what I liked.
Even so, the things I wore or liked were always "strange" to them. And yeah, sometimes that hurt.

I always tried to make everyone happy, always there to help when they needed me —
but sometimes, no one ever asked what I wanted.
There were moments when I felt so out of place, like I never truly fit in,
no matter how hard I tried to dress or act like everyone else.
Somehow, everything still made me wonder —
maybe I'm just not good enough.

I still believe they're good people.
It's just... they don't really understand me.
Maybe it's my fault — maybe I'm simply too hard to understand.

Still, I pretended not to care. I smiled at everyone, acted fine, but when I was alone... well, you'd probably frown if you read this, but yeah... I cried.
It's okay though. Crying was my way of healing myself — it helped me sleep, and once I fell asleep, I could forget everything for a while.
That's why sleeping was my favorite thing to do.
Back then, since you were only a dream, I slept a lot.

My family is... normal. Maybe even poor, to be honest. But my parents always gave me the best they could — not the best, but good enough.
Sometimes, they'd argue — yell and fight — and that made me stop believing in love.
My dad drinks and smokes more and more these days, and it drives my mom crazy.
That's why I never liked guys who drink or smoke.
I used to pray to God, "Please don't let a guy like that come into my life."
And well... you already know how that turned out. (laughs)

I worked, went home, sometimes had coffee with friends, sometimes went out alone when they were busy, sometimes watched movies by myself.
No one ever wanted to watch the movies I liked, so I just went alone.
Eventually, I started to enjoy being alone. It felt freeing.

And that's how it was — 22 years of not liking anyone, and no one liking me.
Just me and my imagination.
It was perfect, in a funny way.
But deep down, I didn't really need much... I just need someone who could understand me, and gently comfort me whenever I felt small.

And right now, I'm still waiting.
I've asked God many times, "When will he come?" but I never got an answer.
Maybe the best things always come last, right?
So... I'll just be patient.

— PikaPika, Some day in July 2025