[ K A R A ]
Hiding in the comfort of my room, I made sure the door was closed and I opened the notebook. Pretty soon, I realized that the book was filled with all sorts of scribbling and poems. They were all handwritten, most likely by none other than Ryder himself. Several of them caught my interest, notably the poems titled ‘Dear K’. It went something like this:
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Dear K,
Should I call you a stranger?
Or maybe a friend, or an acquaintance.
A housemate. A playmate. A play date.
I find it hard to act and behave.
When I don’t know the meaning of what I see.
You are you, and I am me.
And these are the only things that we'll ever get to be.
* * * * * * * * * *
