I’m looking over to the right of my computer. There you are.
How ironic it is that I once dislike you and now you are my favourite. Just like how my feelings is to you. The one who gift me this.
It was my birthday eve. You came back to town. I remember I wanted you to be here to celebrate my birthday with me. Not him or anybody else but you. I’m not sure if you get my hinting several weeks ago. But you remembered my birthday.
Come to think of it, I was mad at your a few weeks ago for being insensitive.
“You’re someone sensitive right?”, you asked.
“No, it was you who is insensitive”, I said. You always speak your mind without thinking if that’s appropriate. I make sure you knew you’re wrong by ignoring you for weeks.
On my birthday you called. Your friends invited you out for a boy’s night and you didn’t want to go. You wanted me to come over. I can hear from the tone of your voice that you wanted to see me. You didn’t want to pressure me. So you let me decide.
Do I want to spend 2 days in a row with this guy? I asked myself. I wanted to. So much. There’s no one else I want to be with on my birthday. But I didn’t. I hold myself. I didn’t want to fall too deep. I didn’t want to remember that you are the one who celebrated my birthday with me if you ever leave.
“Ewww that smells like Middle Eastern scent!”, I said as I sprayed the perfume for the first time on my arm after you handed me the box. I was actually happy because you remember my birthday and you bought me a gift.
I didn’t want you to know that.
Here I am looking over at the perfume you gifted me. My hands reached out for the bottle. I couldn’t help it but to mist it over me, again and again. Even if I have got no where to go.
I missed you.