Its funny how things can be just things to some.

Its funny how they can be so much more.

I wonder if he keeps the letters.

The keychain.

I remember how I cried when I broke his nametag. And clumsily fixed it back with scotchtape.

I remember how I tore up one of his letters that fateful day, because I wanted him there and in a bid to 'protect' me, he kept insisting on leaving. I remember how I was crying when I grabbed the letter. I remember how I fell against the wall after I had torn it, and I cried even more. I remember picking up the pieces, and crying as I pieced it together and read the words to him. I remember keeping the pieces carefully at one side.

I remember how the very first letter, given at Christmas, was always kept in my little treasure box. I remember how I gave up putting it there as I took it out so often.

I remember that big fight we had at the park. The one where you just kept walking away no matter how I pulled you back. And I remember doing something really stupid. I remember trying to give you the keychain and necklace back. And you refused to take it. And you walked away. I remember throwing the keychain, and feeling a sharp pain in my heart when it hit the pull up bars. I remember your face as you turned around, and I ran to where you were, picked it up and gave it to you again. I remember the rage as you threw everything...including your wallet...to the ground. I remember chasing you to the drain, shouting, not caring if my father would hear. I remember hugging you. And I remember crying.

And then, everything was okay, as I felt your arms around me again.

I remember you telling me how you wouldn't have had the heart to walk away fully, how you would have come back, had I stopped at the pulling you back, and not thrown anything. You said that if I hadn't stopped you, who knows what you would have done when you got home.

And I remember how glad I was I went after you.

I remember how I was one day reading snippets of the letters to Fiona, and how she suggested I give them to you to read, maybe that would wake you up.

But I was so scared. Scared that you would tear it up. Scared that I would lose those very precious letters.

So I didn't.

And then, yesterday, I did something I never thought I'd do.

I put something important from you on the line, as I asked God for a sign.

I didn't want to post it up, as I was afraid that you, not knowing what I was asking for, would treat it as an excuse to continue deluding yourself.

It was the necklace.

And I thought I'd had a plan to wake you up. I thought it was a pretty good one.

And I told God, that if the necklace dropped and broke, the plan was a no-no. If it stayed on, it wasn't a definite yes.

And, after lunch, when I stood up to get my bag.

I heard a sound of glass breaking.

I looked down, and a feeling overwhelmed me when I saw the necklace in pieces.

I remember how I told you I didn't want to wear it cos I was so clumsy and I would break it.

But this was different. I had worn it for longer days before, and it always stayed tight.

Yet, it dropped.

And broke.

And I cried.

I tried to fool myself, and told myself that I was crying cos I had to think of another plan, and I was so so tired.

But, the reality sunk in today.

I cried, because, to me, it was more than just a necklace.

It was from you.

And when I read Joji's post today, and how she'd kept the flower up to now.

I started crying.

Because, things are sometimes more than things.

And when you lose them, it can be heartbreaking.

And while most people, probably including me, would normally say, "Treat it as a starting point to move on."

Today, I say.

I'm crying with you.

I picked up the pieces of the necklace, and I asked Lydia to glue it together for me.

But it'll always have a chip in it.

A small piece, lay unseen on the floor.

That piece, will always remind me.

The day, I took a gamble with something important to me, and lost.

The bright side of the whole thing, well, I got my sign.

But I'm still crying over the loss of the necklace.

So...Joji...

You're not alone.