I’m a difficult person to get to know. I acknowledge that. I accept it. This is probably why I get so attached in the rare occasions that I do let people in. Some of you can probably relate. Your life, most likely, hasn’t been a walk through the park so you have a shield, and a sword, and big walls and whatnot. All meant to keep you safe from all the hurt and disappointment that lurks outside.
You have hundreds of acquaintances who smile when they see you and tell you that you should catch up sometimes or maybe you don’t really talk to people all together. The one thing you have in common is that only a select few get to know the real you. The you who was bullied in middle school and still feels the sting, the you who cries at pathetic chick-flicks, the you who just needs to be held every now and again. You feel like a clown, day after day, playing a pathetic part in a pathetic play you never wanted to be a part of to begin with. You don’t fit, like a piece of puzzle who got lost in a wrong box.
This is how I feel, day after day. I’ve been wearing a socially accepted mask ever since I can remember. This is the reason why finding people I can connect with is such a big deal. And I get excited and clingy and overwhelming.
I’ve given pieces of my heart to these people. Pieces of myself. My fears, my hopes and dreams, my aspirations, I have shared it all with them. Because it felt right. And I would do it again in the blink of an eye.
Here comes the downside. The spark that you see in these people doesn’t always reflect back. Some of them will just up and leave one day. After asking myself “why” for a very long time, I’ve reached the conclusion that time acts like a sieve that filters out those who weren’t worthy or willing or whatnot to be a part of yourself.
Nobody comes into our life by mere coincidence so I bet even these people had a role. A role I have a hard time figuring out but I’m sure it’s there.
I’ve lost a lot of friends. Or maybe pushed away is the correct term if I’m being completely honest to myself. There are people in this world who know parts of me I’ve never shown to anybody. There are people in this world who I can read like an open book. I carry them with me everywhere I go. And I sure as hell know that they carry a piece of my heart with them. I haven’t spoken to most of these people in months, maybe years.
I love them to this very day and until the day I will give my last breath. They helped build me. I love them and they’ll never know. When they see me walking down the street and suddenly get fascinated with their phones, I love them. I love them when I’m weak and vulnerable and try to reach out but they never pick up the phone.
After a while, you just make peace with the fact that these people have to become just bittersweet memories. I no longer have the privilege to talk to them or even acknowledge their existence, but sometimes I still feel the pulse of our bond, like a wave of magic flowing through my heart.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and I figured out that not everything in the world gets a happy ending. I won’t share my most intimate secrets with them when I’m old and wrinkled because it’s the moments I have already lived that matter. And nobody can ever take those away from me. So I will continue to love them even if my entire being is telling me to let go already. How can I let go when I still have these memories that either hug me gently or rip me apart?
So here’s my advice for those of you who think of somebody they’ve lost at this very moment: Cherish their memory but don’t hold on too tight. It’s easy to get lost in the past and forget the present. It’s easy to forget the friends who have actually stuck with you through thick and thin. But you shouldn’t ever miss out on the now.
I’ll always have a little love for people I no longer have the privilege to talk to. My heart will break a little if theirs ever will. I’ll never tell them that, but I’ll feel it and maybe they’ll feel it too. So is it better to have had a good thing and lost it, or never to have had it? Perhaps I’ll never know.