A Diary From A Guy

January 2

Do you still remember the first time we met? It was the first day in school. I was hurriedly entering the school gate when I bumped into you as you stepped out of a luxurious Volvo. The books you were holding fell all over the ground. I quickly picked up the books and returned them to you along with words of apology, but all you showed me was your intimidating look. My first impression of you was that you were a wilful girl born with a golden sthingy in the mouth. I had rejected you completely and had hoped not to meet you again, but surprisingly you turned out to be my classmate.

March 22

I started to know more about you as days passed and my opinion of you changed for the better on each passing day. I realised that you were from a wealthy family but definitely not a wilful girl. You were nice and friendly. You got angry that day we first met because I had left a footprint marking on the poetry collection you loved dearly. We met often during lunch break and I found something in you that was different from the rest of the girls — your passion for Chinese poetry. Often you would mumble something to yourself. Initially, I thought that you were humming a pop song but later I realised that you had been reciting Chinese poems from great poets. You were so knowledgeable that you knew every poet and which poems they composed. I was very impressed indeed.

April 5

I met you again in the study area. That day you were reading the Chinese classics "Romance of the 3 kingdom". Your ability to appreciate Chinese classics left me with admiration. You were indeed unique in many ways.

May 5

From then on, we would often meet in the study area to discuss about the good and bad things of the character in these Chinese classics. Do you still remember the time when we almost broke off because we could not agree on whether Jia BaoYu hurt Lin Dai Yu? Our argument was so fierce that we never talked for that week. But when Friday came, we still met in the study area and laughed over the incident. After which, another argument started.

Aug 7
I could not deny it. It was a feeling I could not identify accurately. Whenever you laughed over a joke with other guys, that emotion filled my senses. It took me a while before identified it. I was in love; the feeling was jealousy. I felt the need to express it. But, I was afraid...that you would dismiss my feeling, that you and I would be stuck in an embarrassing situation, that our long nurtured friendship would crumble...therefore, I kept quiet.


Oct 1

The news came as a shock to me. I was so worried when I learnt that you had fainted in the canteen. I was struggling to keep my worried face in control as I looked at the ambulance that carried you away.

Oct 2

It was drizzling that day. Our form teacher sadly announced that you had got cancer. As she finished her last sentence, outside the classroom, it seemed to me that the drizzle had turned into a downpour. I could only hear the sound of the rain, nothing more. I rushed to NUH ICU to see you immediately after lesson. Your face was whitish in colour, showing no trace of red. I learnt that you had just undergone an operation. The life-support system was just beside you with tubes piercing mercilessly into your left wrist. "I am all right, it is just a serious case of anemia. Believe me, my parents told me that". you said convincingly. I knew fully well what you were thinking, you did not want me to be worried. "Are you comforting yourself or comforting the fears and hopelessness that was written all over my face?", I thought to myself. I was not strong enough to disagree with you and I nodded my head with a forced smile. You responded with a smile too — with great effort.

Oct 5

It was a ordinary day but to me, it was an important day. I felt an impulse to express my love. I walked over to the side of your bed, holding your hand. I told you the story of how an ordinary guy fell in love with a girl who likes poetry and Chinese classics. As I told my story, my eyes started to flood with water, and uncontrollably my voice started to choke, and finally I broke into tear. But you held my head against your body and with watery eyes, said: "I understand such a love, so did the girl." I returned my eyes to her and at that moment, her tears dropped, and for the first time, I saw some redness on her lips.

Oct 26

It was the last day of examination and I rushed to NUH. When I reached there, I only saw the nurse arranging the bed you once slept on. When I asked about you, the nurse told me expressionlessly that you had passed away. It was a bolt from the blue for me. I stood motionless for a long time. I hated myself for spending the last few days preparing for the last examination paper. I hated myself for not staying longer the last time I visited you. I hated myself so much...but you were gone...... I can't remember how I got home that day. When I woke up, I was already in my room. The pillow I slept on was wet. The next day, I went for the funeral. I heard from your father that on the day you passed away, you were still reading the Poetry collection I gave you as a gift for your birthday. Standing in front of Your portrait, I had no tears, they were used up on the day of your death. All I knew was sadness, my heart was like shattered into pieces and died.

Jan 2

A new girl has taken over your seat. She does not like poetry, but she likes to hum pop songs. When I asked her if she knows Jia Bao Yu, she replied: "What talking you." Yes, you were gone. But to me, the seat is still unoccupied, and maybe no one will ever occupy it......

Treasure your love ones coz they might not be always around. Share this story to those you cherish most and let them feel their "presence" are important as they are part of our lives too!!

The Love Letter

I was always a little in awe of Great-aunt Stephina Roos. Indeed, as children we were all frankly terrified of her. The fact that she did not live with the family, preferring her tiny cottage and solitude to the comfortable but rather noisy household where we were brought up — added to the respectful fear in which she was held.

We used to take it in turn to carry small delicacies which my mother had made down from the big house to the little cottage where Aunt Stephia and an old colored maid spent their days. Old Tnate Sanna would open the door to the rather frightened little messenger and would usher him or her into the dark voor-kamer, where the shutters were always closed to keep out the heat and the flies. There we would wait, in trembling but not altogether unpleasant.

She was a tiny little woman to inspire so much veneration. She was always dressed in black, and her dark clothes melted into the shadows of the voor-kamer and made her look smaller than ever. But you felt the moment she entered. That something vital and strong and somehow indestructible had come in with her, although she moved slowly, and her voice was sweet and soft.

She never embraced us. She would greet us and take out hot little hands in her own beautiful cool one, with blue veins standing out on the back of it, as though the white skin were almost too delicate to contain them.

Tante Sanna would bring in dishes of sweet, sweet, sticky candy, or a great bowl of grapes or peaches, and Great-aunt Stephina would converse gravely about happenings on the farm, and, more rarely, of the outer world.

When we had finished our sweetmeats or fruit she would accompany us to the stoep, bidding us thank our mother for her gift and sending quaint, old-fashioned messages to her and the Father. Then she would turn and enter the house, closing the door behind, so that it became once more a place of mystery.

As I grew older I found, rather to my surprise, that I had become genuinely fond of my aloof old great-aunt. But to this day I do not know what strange impulse made me take George to see her and to tell her, before I had confided in another living soul, of our engagement. To my astonishment, she was delighted.

"An Englishman,"she exclaimed."But that is splendid, splendid. And you,"she turned to George,"you are making your home in this country? You do not intend to return to England just yet?"

She seemed relieved when she heard that George had bought a farm near our own farm and intended to settle in South Africa. She became quite animated, and chattered away to him.

After that I would often slip away to the little cottage by the mealie lands. Once she was somewhat disappointed on hearing that we had decided to wait for two years before getting married, but when she learned that my father and mother were both pleased with the match she seemed reassured.

Still, she often appeared anxious about my love affair, and would ask questions that seemed to me strange, almost as though she feared that something would happen to destroy my romance. But I was quite unprepared for her outburst when I mentioned that George thought of paying a lightning visit to England before we were married. "He must not do it," she cried. "Ina, you must not let him go. Promise me you will prevent him." She was trembling all over. I did what I could to console her, but she looked so tired and pale that I persuaded her to go to her room and rest, promising to return the next day.

When I arrived I found her sitting on the stoep. She looked lonely and pathetic, and for the first time I wondered why no man had ever taken her and looked after her and loved her. Mother had told me that Great-aunt Stephina had been lovely as a young girl, and although no trace of that beauty remained, except perhaps in her brown eyes, yet she looked so small and appealing that any man, one felt, would have wanted to protect her.

She paused, as though she did not quite know how to begin.

Then she seemed to give herself, mentally, a little shake. "You must have wondered", she said, "why I was so upset at the thought of young George's going to England without you. I am an old woman, and perhaps I have the silly fancies of the old, but I should like to tell you my own love story, and then you can decide whether it is wise for your man to leave you before you are married."

"I was quite a young girl when I first met Richard Weston. He was an Englishman who boarded with the Van Rensburgs on the next farm, four or five miles from us. Richard was not strong. He had a weak chest, and the doctors had sent him to South Africa so that the dry air could cure him. He taught the Van Rensburg children, who were younger than I was, though we often played together, but he did this for pleasure and not because he needed money.

"We loved one another from the first moment we met, though we did not speak of our love until the evening of my eighteenth birthday. All our friends and relatives had come to my party, and in the evening we danced on the big old carpet which we had laid down in the barn. Richard had come with the Van Rensburgs, and we danced together as often as we dared, which was not very often, for my father hated the Uitlanders. Indeed, for a time he had quarreled with Mynheer Van Rensburg for allowing Richard to board with him, but afterwards he got used to the idea, and was always polite to the Englishman, though he never liked him.

"That was the happiest birthday of my life, for while we were resting between dances Richard took me outside into the cool, moonlit night, and there, under the stars ,he told me he loved me and asked me to marry him. Of course I promised I would, for I was too happy to think of what my parents would say, or indeed of anything except Richard was not at our meeting place as he had arranged. I was disappointed but not alarmed, for so many things could happen to either of us to prevent out keeping our tryst. I thought that next time we visited the Van Ransburgs, I should hear what had kept him and we could plan further meetings…

"So when my father asked if I would drive with him to Driefontein I was delighted. But when we reached the homestead and were sitting on the stoep drinking our coffee, we heard that Richard had left quite suddenly and had gone back to England. His father had died, and now he was the heir and must go back to look after his estates.

"I do not remember very much more about that day, except that the sun seemed to have stopped shining and the country no longer looked beautiful and full of promise, but bleak and desolate as it sometimes does in winter or in times of drought. Late that afternoon, Jantje, the little Hottentot herd boy, came up to me and handed me a letter , which he said the English baas had left for me. It was the only love letter I ever received, but it turned all my bitterness and grief into a peacefulness which was the nearest I could get, then, to happiness. I knew Richard still loved me, and somehow, as long as I had his letter, I felt that we could never be really parted, even if he were in England and I had to remain on the farm. I have it yet, and though I am an old, tired woman, it still gives me hope and courage."

"It must have been a wonderful letter, Aunt Stephia," I said.

The old lady came back from her dreams of that far-off romance. "Perhaps," she said, hesitating a little, "perhaps, my dear, you would care to read it?"

"I should love to, Aunt Stephia," I said gently.

She rose at once and tripped into the house as eagerly as a young girl. When she came back, she handed me a letter, faded and yellow with age, the edges of the envelope worn and frayed as though it had been much handled. But when I came to open it I found that the seal was unbroken.

"Open it ,open it," said Great-aunt Stephia, and her voice was shaking.

I broke the seal and read.

It was not a love letter in the true sense of the word, but pages of the minutest directions of how "my sweetest Phina" was to elude her father's vigilance, creep down to the drift at night and there meet Jantje with a horse which would take her to Smitsdorp. There she was to go to "my true friend, Henry Wilson", who would give her money and make arrangements for her to follow her lover to Cape Town and from there to England, "where, my love, we can be be married at once. But if, my dearest, you are not sure that you can face lift with me in a land strange to you, then do not take this important step, for I love you too much to wish you the smallest unhappiness. If you do not come, and if I do not hear from you, then I shall know that you could never be happy so far from the people and the country which you love. If, however, you feel you can keep your promise to me, but are of too timid and modest a journey to England unaccompanied, then write to me, and I will, by some means, return to fetch my bride."

I read no further.

"But Aunt Phina!"I gasped. "Why…why…?"

The old lady was watching me with trembling eagerness, her face flushed and her eyes bright with expectation."Read it aloud, my dear," she said. "I want to hear every word of it. There was never anyone I could trust… Uitlanders were hated in my young days… I could not ask anyone."

"But, Auntie, don't you even know what he wrote?"

The old lady looked down, troubled and shy like a child who has unwittingly done wrong.

"No, dear," she said, speaking very low."You see, I never learned to read.

Myanmar Love Story

10th Grade

As I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to me. She was my so called "best friend". I stared at her long, silky hair, and wished she was mine. But she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it.

After class, she walked up to me and asked me for the notes she had missed the day before and handed them to her. She said "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I wanted to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

11th Grade

The phone rang. On the other end, it was her. She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broke her heart. She asked me to come over because she didn't want to be alone, so I did. As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes, wishing she was mine. After 2 hours, one Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, she decided to go to sleep.

She looked at me, said "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Senior Year

The day before prom she walked to my locker. "My date is sick" she said; he's not going to go well, I didn't have a date, and in 7th grade, we made a promise that if neither of us had dates, we would go together just as "best friends". So we did. Prom night, after everything was over, I was standing at her front door step! I stared at her as she smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes. I want her to be mine, but she isn't think of me like that, and I know it. Then she said "I had the best time, thanks!" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Graduation Day

A day passed, then a week, then a month. Before I could blink, it was graduation day. I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her diploma. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn't notice me like that, and I knew it. Before everyone went home, she came to me in her smock and hat, and cried as I hugged her. Then she lifted her head from my shoulder and said, "you're my best friend, thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

A Few Years Later

Now I sit in the pews of the church. That girl is getting married now. I watched her say "I do" and drive off to her new life, married to another man. I wanted her to be mine, but she didn`t see me like that, and I knew it. But before she drove away, she came to me and said "you came!". She said "thanks" and kissed me on the cheek. I want to tell her, I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love her but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why.

Funeral

Years passed, I looked down at the coffin of a girl who used to be my "best friend". At the service, they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school years. This is what it read:

I stare at him wishing he was mine, but he doesn't notice me like that, and I know it. I want to tell him, I want him to know that I don't want to be just friends, I love him but I'm just too shy, and I don't know why. I wish he would tell me he loved me!

I wish I did too... I thought to myself, and I cried.

I Love You

Send this to all the people that you love! Even if you don't love someone, send it to them....just to let them know that you're thinking about them!!

The Hardest Thing I Had to Say

It all started when I was 6 years old. While I was playing outside on my farm in California, I met a boy. He was an average kind of boy who teased you and then you chased them and beat them up. After that first meeting in which I beat him up we kept on meeting and beating each other up at the fence. That only lasted for a little while though. We would meet at the fence all the time and we were always together.

I would tell him all my secrets. He was very quiet; he would just listen to what I had to say. I found him easy to talk to and I could talk to him about everything. In school we had separate friends but when we got home we would always talk about what happened in school. One day I said to him that a guy I liked hurt me and broke my heart. He just comforted me and said everything would be okay. He gave me words of encouragement and helped me get over him. I was happy and thought of him as a real friend. But I knew that there was something else about him that I liked. I thought of it that night and figured it was just a friend kinda thing that I was feeling.

All through high school and even through graduation we're always together and of course I thought of it as being friends. But I knew deep inside that I really felt differently. On graduation night even though we had different dates to the prom I wanted to be with him. That night after everybody went home I went to his house and wanted to tell him that I wanted to see him. Well, that night was my big chance and all I did was just sit there with him watching the stars and talking about what I was going to do and what he was going to do. I looked into his eyes and listened to him talk about what his dream was. How he wanted to get married and settle down. He said how he wanted to be rich and successful. All I could do was to tell him my dream and cuddle next to him.

I went home hurting because I didn't tell him how I was feeling. I wanted to tell him so bad that I loved him but I was too scared and frightened. I let my feelings go and told myself that someday I would tell him just how I felt. All through college I wanted to tell him but he always had someone with him. After graduation he got a job in New York, I was happy for him but at the same time I was sad to see him go. I was sad also because I didn't tell him how I felt. But I couldn't let him know now that he was leaving for his big job. So I just kept it to myself and watched him go on the plane. I cried as I hugged him for what I felt was going to be the last time. I went home that night and cried my eyes out. I felt hurt that I didn't tell him what I had inside my heart.

Well, I got a job as a secretary and then worked my way to a computer analyst. I was proud of what I had accomplished. One day I got a letter with an invitation to a marriage. It was from him, I was happy and sad at the same time. Now I know that I could never be with him and that we could only be friends. I went to the wedding the next month. It was a big occasion. The big church wedding and the reception at the hotel. I met the bride and of course him. I fell in love one more time. But I held back so it wouldn't spoil what should be the happiest day in his life. I tried to have fun that night but it was killing me inside watching him being so happy and me trying to be happy covering up my sadness tears inside of me.

I left New York feeling that I did the right thing. Before I left on the flight, he came running out of nowhere and said his good-byes and how he was very happy to see me. I came home and just tried to forget about what went on in New York. I had to go on with my life. As the years went on, we wrote to each other on what was going on and how he had missed talking to me. On one occasion he never wrote back to me at all. I was getting worried as to why he hadn't written anything for a long time after I had already written 6 letters to him. Well, just when everything seemed hopeless and sad in my life, I got a note that said: "meet me at the fence where we used to talk about things". I went and saw him there. I was happy to see him, but he was broken-hearted and sad inside. We hugged until we couldn't breathe anymore.

Then he told me about the divorce and why he hadn't written for a long time. He cried until he couldn't cry anymore. Finally, we went back to the house and talked and laughed about what I had been going and to catch up on old times. But in all of this, I couldn't tell him how I felt about him. In the days that followed, he had fun and forgot about all his problem and his divorce. I fell in love again with him. When it came time for him to leave back to New York, I went to see him off and cried. I hated to see him leave. He promised to see me every time he could get a vacation. I couldn't wait for him to come so I could be with him. We would always have fun when we were together.


One day he didn't show up like he said he would. I figured that he might have been busy. The days turned into months and I just forgot about it. Then I got a call one day from a lawyer in New York. The lawyer said that he had died in a car accident going to the airport. And that it took this long till everything was settled. It broke my heart. I was shocked about what took place. Now I knew why he didn't come that day. Again, I was broken-hearted. I cried that night, cried tears of sadness and heartache. Asking questions why did this happen to a kind guy like him?

I gathered my things and went to New York for the reading of his will. Of course, things were given to his family and his ex-wife. I finally got to meet her since the last time we met at the wedding. She explained to me how he was and how he always provided. But he was always unhappy. She would always try everything but she couldn't get him happy, as he was that night at their wedding. When the will was read, the one thing that was given to me was a diary. It was a diary that of his life. I cried as it was given to me. I didn't know what to think. Why was this given to me? I took it and flew back to California. As I flew on the plane I remembered the good times that we had together. I started reading the diary and what was written.

The diary was started with the day we first met. I read on till I started to cry. The diary told of him saying that he had fallen in love with me that day I was broken-hearted. But he was too afraid to tell me what he had felt. That is why he was so quiet and liked to listen to me. It told of how he wanted to tell me so many times, but was too afraid to say anything. It told of when he went to New York and fell in love with another. How the happiest time he had was seeing me and dancing with me at the wedding. He said he imagined it was our wedding. How he was always unhappy till he had no choice but to divorce his wife. How the best time in his life was to read the letters written to him by me. Finally, the diary ended when it said, "today I will tell her I love her". It was the day he was killed. The day I was going to finally find out what was really in his heart.

If you love someone, don't wait till tomorrow to tell him or her. Maybe that next day will never come at all.

The Wedding Vows

"When I was six years old I met you in the playground and you came up to me with a daisy, and knelt on both knees and asked me to marry you. So I pushed you over then ran away. Two days later you came over and asked if you could play cops and robbers with me and from that day on we played everyday.

At 11, on my first day of Secondary school I was so nervous, but at lunch time you came to find me, and we sat down and ate lunch together. We did this everyday for an entire year. You were the first person I told about everything, about my crushes, about my lessons and about all the people I hated, and when I was 13 and thought I was the only one who had never been kissed, you offered to show me how, and by the tree in your backgarden we shared our first kiss.

At 15, we went to our first proper house party, and I got drunk. Even though I made a fool of myself, you were there to help me stand strong. You didn't judge and you didnt make fun.

Over the next year, we began to separate, and made different friends. I got my first serious boyfriend and you went through quite a few girlfriends. And then it got to May and that meant the prom. Everything had been arranged, I'd been getting my outfit for months and then the day before I found out my boyfriend had cheated on me. The first person I turned to was you. You turned up at my door with a bouquet of roses and a vintage 1950's car.

I laughed that night and I cried that night

We had three glorious years together, when everyday I would smile. Even on the last when your mother stood up, in the church in front of your coffin and began reading from your diary:

"I saw you when I was six standing by the bench in a blue checked dress and daisy shoes and I needed to give another daisy just because.... Becuase i loved you from that day on"

His wedding vows written the day after prom, that I will never get to hear."