I saw something that reminded me of you today. It was just a small, tiny thing, but it reminded me of you nonetheless.
And even though it had been weeks since you last crossed my mind—and many months more since you were last in my life—I can’t help but think back to the times when we were still together. Although it had been a long time ago, it felt to me like it was just yesterday. I felt as though my phone would buzz at any moment and when I check it, I would have gotten a message from you.
At that moment, I couldn’t help but wonder how you are doing. Are you eating properly? I hope you don’t just settle for a packet of crackers and call it dinner. Are you sleeping enough? Or are you not sleeping well enough? It’s going to get really hot tomorrow. I hope that you can keep cool, though I’m sure you’d be used to the weather. You should drink more water anyway and make sure to eat plenty of fruits.
I wonder how you are feeling nowadays. I hope that you’ve finally found the right medication and you’re feeling well enough. I hope that things aren’t too stressful for you, I know how you can get under stress.
Maybe you have already moved on. Maybe you’ve found someone that you can talk to every night without feeling burnt out. Or maybe you didn’t, and you’re just happy with the way you are. I hope you are.
I guess that’s life, isn’t it? You meet someone, you talk to them, you fall out, you part ways like you’re strangers again. People come and people go, and I guess we just all have to learn to accept it.
And I guess I’ve learned to accept it—that we don’t talk anymore, and that those late night chats and sweet murmurings meant nothing in the end, and that everything we said died the moment it left our mouths, and that nothing you or I heard survived longer than the time it took for it to go from our receivers to our speakers.
And that we made new friends, or connected with our old ones, and that we are okay with pretending we never knew each other except for the brief moment where our paths intertwined and nothing came of it.
And I will put away this small, tiny thing that reminded me of you today into the back of my mind. I will come to understand that not everything has to be a lesson, that we could have done everything right and yet still never succeed.
But that’s alright because that’s just how it is.
So I put away that small, tiny thing that reminded me of you and I get ready to go out to grab brunch with my friends. Maybe you are getting ready to go out with your friends, too. Or, maybe, you are getting ready to have another night in with yourself, eating popcorn on the couch and watching some trashy reality television show on your laptop.
Either way, it’s a chapter of your life that I will never get to be part of. I just hope you are well.
I toss on a nice shirt—the same one you liked the most—and I shut the door behind me. I shut it real tight and I don’t turn around.
And if the door opens ever so slightly as I walk away? Well, that’s just how it is.
Categories: a piece of my mind, autobiographical fiction, short stories, word vomit
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