fuck off

You asked me how everything is going on. Honestly, I don’t know what to tell you. Here is a funny line I read somewhere – ‘some days I am Van Gogh’s Starry Night and other days I am his suicide note’. Honestly, I miss you. Missing you comes in waves and there are nights when I drown. But today I told myself that you are dead. And it felt good. It felt good to think of you like that, without any resentment. You didn’t go away. You died.

Then you asked what’s going on with me. I laughed. I told you that I am in another city and having the time of my life. The truth is I am running away. But no matter how far away I run, I always come back here, to myself because apparently, I can’t run away from myself.

You said you were sorry. There was this five-minute pause in our chat after that. One, I knew you weren’t sorry. Two, you don’t even have an idea what you should be sorry for. For you, I have always been this strong girl who can slap anyone and get away with it. I know, I am rough and cold like that but I can make a river of my tears. And you don’t know that. I told you I am still taking medicines and getting better because I feel happier. If you are happy in a dream, does that count? The happiness, does it count?

You knew the girl who had dreams, ambitions, and a wild, wild imagination. She was supposed to do great things. But I am not what I thought I would be. And no one told me how to rediscover myself. I am lost and I don’t think I can be found anymore. The part of me you saw is gone. I don’t remember how it felt like to be that person you used to know.

I changed after you left. I became quieter, softer, less volatile, and less awake. I died and yet I am alive.

I told you I am sorry too but I didn’t mean it at all. Because why would I owe you the biggest apology? No one has been as cruel as I have been to me, not even you.

You used to call me the golden child, used to ask me what it is like to conquer everything. But now I am that afraid, broken child and all I can tell you is how it feels to burn. And I am sorry for that. You haven’t seen my downfall. You remained there for me when it was all sunshine and rainbows. As soon as the clouds took over, you left. You fled. Yet, here you were telling me your own sob story and asking me about mine.

Sacrifice, that’s what we do for people we love. You sacrificed your blood. I sacrificed myself. Who lost the most? Who won?

We were talking after years. And I felt I was talking to an enemy from my past, not a friend, not at all. And I hate thinking of you like that. I hate thinking about you. So, today I told myself that you are dead.



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