I used to be so excited about going home. It is when I get to hear your voice more often when you lurk in our work quarter. It is when I get to smile on the way thinking of you, and the countless moments you caused my dopamine level to increase.
Going home, riding a bus used to give me opportunities to think of you more often and recall how you made my heart skip when you pass by. It is when I reconcile how foolish I was for putting my small Hello Kitty mirror facing the door so I can get a glimpse of you, and somehow pretend that you’re looking at me too.
I used to be so excited to go home because it is when I share stories with my best friend about how you made my day when we bumped in the hall. It is when I tell my best friend the silly jokes I uttered to you, and how you despised them but still wanted me to go on.
I used to love going home because it is when I get to sleep, hug my pillow, enjoy the warmth and comfort of my bed, and dream of you endlessly. I used to love going home because it gives me more time to contemplate and prepare for our next encounter.
I used to be so excited about going home, but now I feel lonely. Another day ended without you. Not even a glimpse. Not a simple hi. Not a message in Skype.
I used to be so happy about going home, but now I feel sappy. There are no more stories to fantasize about and share with my best friend. No more hopes that will lurk in my bubbles. No more silly jokes to share with you.
I used to fall in love with the thought of going home, but now I just can’t find where that home is. I used to be the girl that hides behind the desktop, eagerly waiting to hear your lively voice.
Now I am just the mystery girl that sent you a letter and hid behind initials. I remain anonymous, waiting for a chance to have a ride back home with you.
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