To My Love, an Old Love Letter   Friday, October 4, 2013

Prologue:I wrote this letter almost 4 years ago, for your birthday supposedly. I abandoned it and left deficient for running out of words. But I decided to resurrect it now. I edited some and inserted few paragraphs to make it more complete.

Dear Ambabe,

I really love calling you by that name as much as I love calling me Amvi. That’s the most endearing name I’d like to speak to you. I can never imagine your outline from the teenager you once was whenever I think of you. There are two overlapping images of you in my head, one is your self-portrait drawing posted in your room, beside your bed at the left wing of your wall—-the one I usually called, “the bad Mel”.

I remember how you bravely shared to me the wild tales of your younger years—-how you were rebellious during those days, the hordes of girlfriends all at the same time, about all those girls that you played around and girlfriends that dumped you around, the numerous screaming fights with your mother and all those runaways from home, all the escapes from school for rock and roll or just to play skateboarding with your friends, all those scars you made when you were depressed and or when you just wanted to mark yourself.

The other image of you in my head is your current state. Your hair has begun its metamorphosis—from long hair to mohawk to skinhead to clean cut and for growing it back to long hair again because you know that I’m attracted to long-haired guys. You’ll be turning 29 this month while I’ll stay 24 this year. Your face remained young and fresh. You’re growing older and mature. You’ve already learned how to bow your head in a battle and surrender yourself to what you cannot control. But still fight when you know that you stand right.

I’m so proud of you Ambabe. I’m so lucky because when I had you, you’re almost gone from the wild. You’re like ruined structures that I am attracted to, abandoned and shattered — things that tell stories. That has history. Beautiful history. I love you for what you become now. You’re the little boy traps in a man’s body no more.
You’re one of those people whose life and achievements I excitedly anticipate, because you never pattern your life from anyone else, which is something I have always envied, admired and loved.

You were one of the most most beautiful things I had ever seen, in a damaged statue sort of way.

Love, Amvi

Epilogue: Funny when I remember now how my friends and I were fascinated to the, bad boy, musician guy-types, long-haired, lost soul kinds that you’d never think about bringing to your parents during college.  I’m glad I’m with the same man for the past 6 years.

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