I spent most of my days in junior high being busy on my own, scribbling in my sketchbook at the back of the classroom. The seat next to me was sometimes empty, but I didn’t really mind since the room was small and packed, allowing me to engage in any conversations with my friends from where I was seated. It was there that I first met Irfani.
I don’t exactly remember how we became friends, but I think it was because we both liked to draw. During class break, we would talk about comic books and draw our favorite anime characters. At our graduation, we made a promise to meet each other again in Japan someday.
Ten years later, we designed our friends’ wedding invitation together. And the year after that, we took a picture in front of Tokyo’s tallest building.
They say opposites attract, but not in our case. Sure, we have our differences — she’s a brilliant student, whereas the academic world doesn’t really suit me. And I’m more into Seokjin while she’s more drawn to Taehyung (they’re both Kims, anyway). Apart from that, I’d say we’re pretty much similar. If each personality has its own color, I suppose ours would be alike. I’m not entirely sure it would be the vibrant ones, though, as both of us tend to gravitate towards the darker hues of the palette. Perhaps that’s why I never hesitated to share almost everything with her, from the highest highs to the lowest lows.
I’m quite amazed by how our bond has remained strong all these years, considering the laid-back, low-maintenance friendship we’ve shared. There were times when she would reach out first, while other times I would annoy her with my random DMs. I’m not naturally good at being a friend, so I’ve learned to be more caring and compassionate from her. She’s the kind of person who never lets anyone feel left behind, and I think that’s incredible.
I never had the guts to say it out loud, but I do realize that someday there will come a time when we won’t see each other around as much. And when that time comes, I’m gonna miss her a lot. One of the hardest things about growing up is having to say goodbye to the people you hold closest. But you know what? That’s okay, because I truly believe she deserves to see the world, and the world needs to see just how amazing she is. Whoever she chooses to spend the rest of her life with, and wherever she decides to call home, I will always pray for her happiness.
When she moved to Nara a year ago, I wrote this to her:
“We may not be like the sun, bringing warmth and shining bright, radiating energy at the speed of light. Instead, we resemble the moon, unseen in the daytime, casting our gentle glow in the silent night.
We may not be the center of the solar system; things do not revolve around us. We are merely satellites, casting a light that is not our own. Our surface carries the scars of countless craters, carved by relentless strikes of asteroids from outer space. But there’s no need to worry. In fact, long ago, we emerged from a massive collision between planets, shaped by the powerful cosmic forces beyond our control.
Just like the moon, we reveal different sides of ourselves as we go through phases of emptiness. I’m okay with being the moon, and I hope you are too. Because even in the darkest of times, the moon will always be there for you.”
Here’s to the long train rides across town, and to the sudden rainfalls that came pouring down.
Here’s to the last bus that carried us home, and to the flower-filled park outside your dorm.
Here’s to our teenage days in that small classroom in Kotabaru, and to the letter I wrote, from me to you.
