- to make it more appropriate, I should probably write this in French, but - mostly - because I don't speak the language, and also because our communication always went in English (in a 'vindow, vater, vhat' and 'appy oni' way), it seems the best to try to write down my feelings. Not as if I had any naive illusions about you ever reading these lines, but still, somehow I feel English closer if it comes to you.

I should probably be quite angry ('hangry') with you for what I got to know a few days ago, but the truth is I just don't care. Not because I didn't like you or don't care about you - because I do -, but because that's your place. Your real place in the real life. I can have no claim or right for you.
But still, you're important. Important for mainly two reasons.
First, you taught me a really crucial lesson about myself. Something I really needed to know. I needed the proof that I can get to like boys like you. Not for the looks, but for unimportant, stupid things, like dancing. For some tiny little things on which I can build the others. Building them slowly, doing one step at a time without even realising; because that's how people do in the real life, not like in children's stories. Getting to like each other step by step while getting to know them, not in the imagined, epic "love at the first sight" scene. I believed this was your role in this bittersweet meeting at the very end. I truly did. And I was proud after you left. Proud of myself and happy ('appy), although my heart hurt in missing you, but I wanted to believe that it was meant to be. You came, crossed my life with yours, taught me what I had to learn and then moved away. But as we don't live in a movie, it's not that simple.
You went home, leaving me behind in a place where every corner, street, tree and house cruelly shouts in my face reminding me of your not being around any more. They became unfaithful in the instant moment when you got on the bus to Cork, losing their beauty if I have to look at them all alone. I loved them so much, but now they are the constant reminders of my loneliness.
And I think that's what hurts the most - and not your secret girlfriend at home - and that's why I can't hate you or be angry with you, because it's all me. I think actually it wasn't you that I liked, but the idea - or even the possibility - of having you. I liked to imagine what a great time we could have had together. Doing everything together I did alone or as a third wheel. We could have lived an imagined adult life for a few month with the safe and carefree awareness that it's all just playing and pretending and doesn't have to last. That is what hurts the most. This missed game we could have lived in. Because I think I was ready for a try. I waited so long, but now I feel I could have done it. I could have done the same that those did so successfully over the months. Or at least I wanted a chance to try. And it's hard to think I couldn't get it. I think I just wanted you to be my P.
Rationally thinking I can find a reason. More than one, actually, but most importantly the fact that probably I didn't like you for real. It was only your physical presence I was longing for. But on the other hand, stepping forward on the road I chose - getting to like someone slowly, piece by piece -, it seems that with time I would have learnt to like you for real, as well. In that fast-crazy heartbeat, butterflies in the stomach way. But I will never know now - I guess. So even my rational part can't fully explain what had happened, how could my heart, then? My heart and soul which waited so long and was so happy for even the shadow of the possibility. And knowing the fact that we could have had the time of our lives. It was the now or never, the once in a life-time opportunity, away from everyone, standing next to and counting only on each other. And you holding me tight. Because - next to the time we could have had - I'm missing your hugs the most. Now that I know that it is like to feel so safe and be held so tight.
And now here I am, all alone - still the holder of that damn candle for the others - mourning the wrong timing and the missed opportunity, counting the days down till my last day here. I don't want to leave, but I simply can't stay. You made it impossible for me to stay, leaving nothing but your constant absence behind - and a bit of a cold, as a matter of fact.
Now my only hope is that at home I won't miss you so badly. Because you're not the part of my life at home. I wanted you here, but that was only here. In this special, magical, temporary life, which was our one chance - a chance we have missed. So hopefully I won't miss you at home, but I will always miss the imagined memory of us which I have never actually had.
And with your last bad act, I really had no idea about what to think. Because with you having a girlfriend at home, you ruined my illusions about why it was meant to be that we've met only at the end. My illusions about you being my teacher in that matter. Because this way, what am I supposed to learn from our 'thing'? That even the good guys are bad enough? Or that I was just near enough and easy to get?
At home I'll be fine, I truly believe that. Because you've never belonged to my life at home, you've never been part of it. There'll be no reminer, no place to miss you from. It's just here where I long for you so badly. But you know what, I do hate you at bit for this. Ultimately, it was you who lied to me answering a clear 'no' for my question if there's someone waiting for you. You let me believe that you'll be all alone there, pity you and try to comfort you. I really did try to do my best to do that - although maybe everything I said to you about that was selfishly a consolation for myself in advance. I told you the very things I myself want to hear when I leave this place, too. But that's not why I'm angry with you - or, more exactly, why I want to be angry with you, although in reality somehow I still can't. The main reason is that it was you who ruined the remains of my days here. It's only since you that I feel I can't enjoy it any more - without you. Before that I enjoyed every single moment and was in love with everything around me. I truly enjoyed myself, but than you came and connected everything to yourself: the parties, the music, the trees, the paths, the riverside walking, the Hs and Ws, the trips and the cookings... And that was your cruelty - involuntary but still painful for me.
So Cher J, my pair in our funny name associations, you who wasn't not my type - not at all - and was still wanted, I really don't know what to say. We didn't really have words to each other - and (although it's not like that old one, when he had no voice in my head, because you do have one, a clear, distinctive one) it's a bit of a dejá vu, a dejá vu I never wanted -, so I don't know your feelings or reasons, but if we ever meet again, I would be grateful to be explained to. And till then, dancing boy, thanks for our half an hours, but shame on you for ruining the end of my time here.