Dear rose, my rose from the other planet I adore.
When I was 6, I had a little pink teddy bear whose name I forgot that stayed on my bed and accompanied me while I slept. When I was 8, counting the stars was a habit of mine, just to find out that I couldn’t figure out which one I’d counted when it came to 20 something, so I repeated. My mom said I was a rebel kid who loved playing computer games like there was no tomorrow, tried a lot of new things, was loud, and couldn’t stay still. Me in 13 listened to countless slow songs till they became my favorite ones. Guitar mastery was my 2017 resolution that I never fulfilled. And I was about 18 when sleep was the thing I loved the most in the entire world.
I gathered every detail I could think of about you, only to realize I had grown up with them.
I wonder about yours. I wonder how the world raised you.
But, Bomu… there’s the thing I learned about growing up. Things come and go; some stay, others leave. My little pink teddy bear is now nowhere to be seen. The stars disappear. I learned how to shut my mouth and never go out of my room. I never play guitar. I have a playlist that contains all the sentimental ballads for sleep. And sleep, sleep is still the best way to keep me sane.
You see? Some stay, others leave.
I wonder about yours. Which part of you will never change?
Because when I see you, it seems like a part of you is still a boy. With that broken white teddy bear, which is getting smaller, sitting on your bed. With your eyes look like there is a whole world living inside. With you who always do plenty of silly acts and are very loud — you’re so loud that I’m afraid you may break a thing. With you and your melancholic voice singing my favorite songs, and the acoustic guitar, everything is completed. With you, sleep peacefully — literally everywhere — as if the world takes a rest too. And do you know what I love about it? It somehow tells me that I should never, ever have to worry about grown-up things again. Maybe growing up is not such a cruel thing when it’s with you. Maybe. Maybe it’s because you aged so well.
I have another thing to wonder. I wonder how it feels to be 21.
And I shall build a house out of blankets to listen to the stories. Or wait until the sun sets. So tell me.
