I miss calling you that.
But right now, I don’t feel angry. Or hurt. Or spurned. Or jealous. Or small. Or unworthy.
I’ve gone through the whole gamut of emotions. Burned one of my friend’s ears off with my angst. But hey, he was returning the favour from last year.
I’m sorry I’ve been snarky, and biting, and somewhat mean. But you’ve also patiently put up with my emo SMSes, my whiny IMs, and you could have shut me out. And you didn’t.
We both could have attempted to just cut each other out of our lives – and prolonged the angst and made it awkward. But you kept your promise. You didn’t leave.
The way I live life, I tend to throw or give away stuff when I can. Else there’d be no room for anything new. I’m hoping that by letting go of this painful attachment to what we had, I’ll be free of the other baggage following me:
- Like the married ex-colleague who won’t leave me alone. You’re married with two kids, for crying out loud.
- The ex-flame, Peter Pan wild child. I’m not picking up your calls because I don’t want to talk to you. We tried being friends again; it didn’t work. You’re still you – self-absorbed, selfish and a child.
- The ex-boyfriend. Honey, I love you. But you don’t even know what you want, or where you’re going. I can’t spend the rest of my life waiting for you to figure yourself out. So don’t make me make you promises when you can’t keep your word. After four years, I need more than you waiting for God to tell you what to do.
So my soul feels lightened, my heart is no longer mumbling in the middle of the night. I can start singing again, and laughing like I mean it.
This isn’t goodbye, baby. Just hello again, friend.