I’m Sorry I Let You Get Away

Timothy Kolczak

It’s been a while, seven years, since I last met you. Truth is I can’t stop thinking about you.

We were in high school when we first met. You were a few years older than me. You were about to graduate and I still had a couple of years left in school. But the age difference didn’t matter to you, like it did to others. You didn’t mind that I was young. You still hung out with me. You still took care of me.

All my close friends knew how much I was in love with you. My eyes would light up every time we met. I had a reason. We were soulmates. I still remember we were walking up the stairs once and we gave each other this meaningful look.

You stopped and asked with a smile, “You feel like you’ve met me before right? Like you’ve known me all your life.”

I nodded enthusiastically. You knew how I felt about you and it made me happy. You spoke my mind in that moment and it was uncanny. It had never happened with me before. I don’t know about you.

One of the silliest memories I remember of us is how I forgot to get a calculator to Math class one day and you lent me yours. It was a standard CASIO Scientific calculator that everyone had, even me. But your calculator was different. It was yours. You had a sticker on the back that said “Ritz”.

Did it mean something? What did it signify? You were wise. It probably meant something. I was stupid enough to not notice.

I wish I had asked what it meant then, because I did the same thing. I took a duck tape and stuck it on the back of my calculator. I wrote “Ritz” on it just like you. I loved you.

Time went by so quickly and then you left. I never knew the significance of staying in touch back then. I never asked for your contact details that I could use to still speak with you. These days it’s so easy to keep in touch with people! I wish I had understood how much you really meant to me. I would have kept you with me always. I wish I had understood what soulmates meant and you were the best I could do. How much more could you have done for me.

Now you’re a stranger to me. I don’t remember your name. No matter how desperately I try to find you on Facebook, you’re not there.

I don’t know how to find you. The only think I remember is your curly hair, the acne on your face, and your calculator with “Ritz” written on it.

Where are you? I feel lost and abandoned. You’re the only one who can make me happy again. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

This story was brought to you by AkkarBakkar.

Skye J. Cardoz is a 23 year old writer from Mumbai, India.

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