I read that the human body regenerates its cells every seven years. In seven years, cells that used to reside in me will die and in me will be a whole new population of cells.
You told me when I’m twenty-five maybe we’ll be together again, maybe we’ll meet again then and maybe we can be something again. That’s in exactly seven years. In seven years I’ll be a new person, my hands will not be the same hands you once held so tenderly. The skin that used to burn at your touch will not be the same skin anymore. The blood that rushed to my cheeks, it will not be the same blood. I’ll be a new person, a whole new person.
It excites me, to know that I’ll be a whole new person when you meet me in seven years. By then you’ll be a new person too, and maybe we’ll be better versions of ourselves, better versions of each other to care for.
But I continued reading and I learned that some organs just don’t regenerate that quickly. Some parts of us just can’t regenerate that fast, and some don’t regenerate at all.
Our bones. The bones that had chills right from within, when we were spending time together, may very well be the same bones. The bones that felt so crushed from that bear crushing hug of yours, crushed from your words, and are the same bones.
Our hearts are pretty much the same too. When I’m seventy-five, not even half of the cells in my heart would have been regenerated to form new ones. The heart that used to beat so fast whenever I was with you will still be the same heart. Your heart that was ruthless and just so, so cold will be the same heart. Our hearts will remain the same. Your heart, that had the tenacity to tear me apart, will be the same heart.
That scares me. Your heart will be the same, and your bones will still remain. Essentially, you’re still you. Our outward appearances might change and all the small and little cells in our body might change, but at the end of the day the very crux of you will still remain. It scares me. I don’t know if I can love the same person that brought about so much pain for me the same way again. I don’t know if I can ever open my heart up to you again. I’ve already done it before, only to have you trample all over it, as if I was nothing. Who knows? If everything works out, what are the chances you’ll do it again? Even after seven years?
Seven years can change a person — physically, emotionally and mentally. When we meet, seven years, ten years down the line, we will be meeting new people.
All I’m wondering is — when I’m twenty-five, will I still run back into your arms, the same way I did when I was eighteen?