“My family is moving away,” I told you quietly.
You froze. You didn’t speak. Finally you looked at me and asked, “Why now?”
When I attended university, I told myself I wasn’t going to be good friends with anyone, let alone be attached to someone. Then there you were. You were an exception. You were a completely different story.
Currently listening to Wait for Me by Kings of Leon
I can’t remember when we stopped talking, nor do I want to. What I want to remember is how happy we used to be. You and I enjoying the afternoon together, playing the guitar, singing.
We did not care about time. We spent hours and hours talking from sunrise to sunset. We were each other’s confidantes.
What happened? What went wrong?
Maybe it’s the distance. You are 11,138 kilometers away from me; I am 6,921 miles away from you. None of my assumptions matter now or maybe they still do and I’m too terrified to acknowledge it.
We used to sit in silence in an empty hallway after class hours. We broke silence by speaking about our fears, our dreams, and everything else.
I dream about you sometimes. We are in an empty hallway, silent. Only now the silence would not end. I still hope that someday it will.
An epiphany: I miss you.
You were a paper boat slowly floating away.
I wish I asked you to stay
But I didn’t.
I was too afraid, too much of a coward.
So now I always pray,
Now I always hope.
I wish on every single star every single night
To move the current towards me
So you’d float back this way.