No, I didn’t mean it.

I didn’t mean that I wanna be friends with you. I didn’t mean that I would like to take up some space in your heart. I didn’t mean it.

Yes, we’ve chatted and talked and called each other in the middle of the night. But does that mean anything? I talk to at least three friends per day and I have an alarm clock that rings twice a month to remind myself to check in with my old friends so that I don’t lose them.

Yes, I’ve brought you dried figs which you love and don’t know where to buy on our trip to Chong Li. But does that tell anything? I remember Marie’s 14 allergens, how David doesn’t eat pork, how Joseph can get killed by potatoes, and how Isaac doesn’t eat meat before any important test.

Yes, I’ve listened to you bragging about how good you are at biology and how you fell in love with that mutual friend of ours (and unfortunately, she is also not considered my friend, I’m sorry) But does that suggest anything? I’m just giving out this free service called “listen patiently” just like how nuns give out free porridge during famine. Is that a crime?

No, honey, you wrong me in every way. What’s wrong with me? Well, let me tell you. This ain’t no sporadic illness, this is a chronic disease that I inherited from my friend in elementary school when I was eight. Why are you crying sweetie, do you want some dried figs? No? How about a piece of chocolate? I always bring a piece of chocolate around me just in case someone is upset. No? Yeah, that was a bad idea from the start. No, I don’t actually mean it.