So the facebook says we are still friends. Ironically we don’t even fit into the definition of strangers anymore. You have hurt me too much to be my friend and you know me too intimately to qualify as a stranger. I guess this why -whoever it was- coined the term ex. But then this term seems so shallow to me. You cannot call tsunami just a wave. You cannot call the sun just a star. You cannot call my first love just an ex. Though a wave is what it might have been, a star is what it is and an ex is who he is- you still cannot.
Sometimes when the ache from your absence becomes too much to bear, I let myself slip through the doors of self-restraint and enter the beautiful graveyard of our memories. In the corners of that dingy land, I see some ghosts of those happy moments that I shared with you lurking around. It does leave me with a smile that soon turns into tears as my little heart collides with the corner of yet another tomb. It’s the one I build over the events of the day that I discovered you with her. I guess I was not supposed to be there, but then rarely ever do I do what I am told to do. It’s a weird chemical reaction- change of smile into tears-. Only people with our type of bonding are susceptible to this kind of reaction.
Soon I’ll get the notification of us celebrating our 2 years of friendship, but then I don’t even remember the last time we spoke. Actually, I do, I remember the exact moment when you sent that last message, the day, the time, every word of it. But I’ll pretend that I don’t. I’ll pretend that it doesn’t matter, I’ll pretend that I’ve moved on, that you are too insignificant to be remembered, I’ll pretend to be YOU. The notification will be a stab to my heart but still, I don’t un-friend you. I won’t forget you. I’ll let you stay. I’ll let you be. Not as a memoir but as a reminder of those shiny things that I mistook for gold. You will always be a part of me- not as a memory but a scar.
Some might say that it is just two years, how can you meet someone, befriend them, fall head over heels in love with them, cry with them and break for them, get betrayed and heartbroken, run from them and chase them, find them again and accept them only to finally leave and be left. But then sometimes two years is not just two years, for some, it is 24 months of love and heartbreak, for some, it’s about those 104 weeks, each of which was like a new Chapter of the tragically building novel of your love life. For some, it’s about those 730 days that you spent loving and daydreaming and equal nights that you spent crying. Sometimes it is about those 5,32,800 moments that you shared- sometimes together and sometimes apart, but you share nevertheless. And sometimes, for someone like me, two years is a lifetime.