Dear Juan de la Cruz,
By the time you read this, I would’ve probably vacated my seat, my things gone, my desk all clean and empty. You’ll probably wonder why I left or why I didn’t say goodbye. Here’s why:
I know this scenario all too well. I’ve been here before. As soon as I handed in that letter, I began telling people that I already did. It was the biggest mistake I’ve ever done. People began asking questions, even people I’m not really close to. They wondered where I’ll go to next, where I am headed, or whatever it is that I plan to do with my life. I answered each one of their questions. It was tiring having to repeat the same line over and over again and to different people every time. During my probably, seventh repetition of my life goals (or lack thereof), I realized that people didn’t really care what I plan to do with my life. They just wanted something to talk about. Some were just keeping tabs of who already left or at least planning to. I should’ve told only those people who really mattered to me — people that I’m sure I will be missed.
I am not saying that you don’t matter. You do. You really do. As cliche as it may sound but it’s not you, it’s just really me. I don’t want to go through the sad farewells again. Believe it or not, there were a lot of tears shed, a lot of I will miss yous uttered, and a lot of “Let’s keep in touch” promises were executed for each single soul I got to talk to that day. I never kept those promises. I never “kept in touch” with them. You see now, Juan de la Cruz, I no longer want to make promises I can’t keep. Nor do I want to create a memory of us bidding farewell in the hopes of seeing each other again in the unknowable future. No, that’s not what I want. I want us to be normal because we will see each other again. Let’s make time to see each other again. There’s no room for a goodbye because we can always meet up for a drink or two, or go out to a nice dinner to catch up. I hope you’ll like that idea, because I sure as hell would sign up if you’re game.
I’m sorry for not telling you that I am leaving. I didn’t tell anyone for the reasons stated above. Please don’t take it personally. I have nothing against you. In fact, if only I could take you with me, I would. That’s how much you mean to me.
My number hasn’t changed. You can still text me or call me whenever you have a new story to tell about that guy you’ve been eyeing on for months or whenever you wanted to rant about your boss who turned into a bitchy monster again. I promise, I will respond. And if I don’t, I probably just went to the bathroom or in a meeting or talking to a work mate. But don’t worry, once I see your name in my mobile screen, I will surely get back to you.
So give me a call sometime, invite me out to dinner, movies or wherever. I will too. Let’s catch up because I’d still like to hear your stories.
Let’s not bid farewell. No matter how beautiful they say farewells are sometimes. This letter isn’t a goodbye, Juan de la Cruz. I am writing to you to say until we meet each other again, live happily just like how I’ve always known you. Continue to inspire lives like how you inpired mine.