You, Me, John

He's a nice guy. That's all there is to say.

Months ago, I sat in the living room of a one-bedroom studio apartment, listening to the sound emitting from the filter of the fish tank while my eyes were fixed on the 27 inch screen. Though not a big fan of Apple, the iMac was the only option I had at the time. It was past midnight, I couldn't sleep. Alone in a foreign country, where else was I to seek company?

He was one in twenty-thousand.

I was ready to press the Esc button any time, moreover, I wasn't in the loveliest mood that night-- frustrated, and answering rudely. I was surprised that he still opted to talk to a grumpy sixteen-year-old. We exchanged emails and that was it. I had no intention of looking for him ever again.

Five months later, a chain of events led to where I am now.

He's in the shower at the moment.

I'm sitting on the bed, legs folded. The morning sun is shining through the window, lighting up part of the room since I only bothered to pull back a small section of the curtain. How long has it been since I woke up so early? It's not often that I see sunlight like this through the dusty glass windows.

I like talking to him, I realise. Hah, if I didn't, I wouldn't have woken up at half past five this morning!

What we have is rather peculiar. I am still numb from the break-up a month ago, I don't feel the need or want to be in love yet I enjoy the company he's providing. Truth is, I feel sorry him. I don't feel what I felt -- and still feel-- for You when I'm with him. Something's missing, but I don't know what. To say that my heart is nowhere in it is a lie, because he makes me smile and I'd want to see him happy as well.

You, always in my mind still. I feel like I'm trapped in a labyrinth of my own emotions, forever wandering around this complex structure, unable to find my way out as each turn I make brings me to the walls that holds the memories of our times together. I break down in front of those cobbled walls before moving on again.

He's out of the shower, standing in front of the door at 6' 4'', you'd wonder how many people on the face of the Earth that's actually so tall.

I smile at him.

Behind this smile of mine, there lies those bittersweet thoughts of first-love. What is this shadowed smile of mine then? I don't know either. I feel nothing, but I am happy.

In Chinese, our situation would be described using four simple words: 有缘无分, meaning not destined to be. Fate is cruel, don't you think? But ah, compensation; this is as good as it's going to get.