'Know that you're staying with Luka Modric. I do not have a little hope whether the letter will be received by you. I am staying here. I don't know when it will stop. Maybe I am praying to get out of here. I am literally staying my room, locked from outside. They talk with me from the other side of the door. I do not know what to do. If I even shout nobody can hear it. I am literally crying while writing this. I actually want to die here. Living like this had enough with me. I don't know whether I can see you again. You are far away, sick, weak. You need me, like I do. I haven't gotten the visa. I don't have passport also. My brother took it with all the documents. His last line was that he would let me go when there is any match. Otherwise, I have to live here like this. I can't help, Neymar. Forgive me. My last wish is that you can read it. And forget me. I don't know if we can see each-other for one last time. Please don't fly here with the sore knee. I love you. I will always choose you, if God lets me be alive one more time. Don't miss me. Take care.'
When I read the full, I was guessing the right and the wrong. I never had the right to ask him anything about Messi. But I realised I can not let things spoiling his appearance. It is true that I came here for healing him a little bit. When the psychiatrist mentioned about his anxieties and concerns, I was placing myself in the corner so that he could not watch me observing his day-by-day behaviours. The letter was the only proof from where all of his concerns have come. I hid it. I knew I was right. I only shared it with the doctor and he told me that it was a good decision. Sometimes, you have to let go the things that hurting you, even if you wished your comfort by those. He told me also. I noted it on my mind.
I did not want to hide it. But after doctor's confirmation I had no another option but tuck it inside an old diary. I was still feeling that something was interfering between his mind. I got to know. When I think about his personal life's depression, I only found one name. It hurts that the thing is hurting you now once the thing was the only reason of your smile. I felt it right in my heart. I wanted to hear the things from him. So, it was the day I took my gut to ask him.
"Neymar. I know maybe it's not right to ask you. But what about Messi? How's he doing?" I asked while eating our desert. I made rozata for him. I was hoping I made it tasty. But the other side from me did not feel the taste. Suddenly, disappear from my eyesight. Did I do wrong? He stopped chewing and staring at the table. I was waiting for his answer. Noticing how the name bothers him. That much. "Hey." I touched his hand slightly to bring his attention back. I did not wish it to turn like that. "Hm?" He asked like I didn't notice anything. I did not even extend the matter. "Finish it. It's alright. I understand-" "No, he is doing okay. I- I guess. Hm. He should stay good for me. I see. And don't worry. Thank you." The tenderness of his voice suddenly kicked me. He didn't contact the eyes while muttering. I was facing a new thing right in front of my eyes. Why was he becoming unknown to me? The side of him, I never knew, was the thing actually bothering him. Why can't he let go off the things punishing him? Why was he punishing me?
He left after saying he won't eat more as he was full. I was looking at his plate, the unfinished appetite, I made. I instantly felt pain. What was I even expecting? Why was I expecting? Some feedbacks for my first try, nothing much. And he left the desert after having just one bite. That day, he did not just leave my desert but leave ME, too. I just recalled the line- He should stay good for ME.
My expectation was beyond measure so does his love for Messi.