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For J. [Feb. 3rd, 2014|01:00 pm]
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[Current Mood |thankfulthankful]

Whenever I feel shitty, I turn to your letters. They make me happy.
So happy, I cry. It's amazing that I still cry even after countless times I have read them.
The feeling is overwhelming every time.

I always tell you that you are a writer and you just laugh on the thought of it.
You tell me ideas - really good ideas for prose but you never get around to start writing them down.
I always tell you to start writing because I know you have it in you.

Yet, you have not started anything -- but these beautiful letters.

It's not that you're lazy (well sometimes, yes) but I think one reason that you do not write is because you are unassuming and you never really care.

That is what I love about you.

You do not have to prove anything to the world. You do not care if the world does not know how great of a man you are and what you have achieved in life; how you hold on to your principles and how you handle every stressful situation; how you are almost seamless in being a mentor, a lover and a bestfriend to me.

You do not care because you never needed any explaining to do except to the people you care about.

I always wish I can be as unassuming as you.

A part of me wants to publish the letters you have given me; even the things you tell me randomly over coffee or while crossing the street.

However, a part of me wants to just keep them all to myself - pieces of you.

These pieces of you that I have are way too cool and way too precious to be given away.

Yes, I am selfish and I am happy.