So I kept on walking, head hung low, fiddling with the wires of my earphones. Matt Healy crooning in the background, only for me to hear. Sure, people could watch me, but I didn't want to see them watching me. It's confusing how I can't tell if I am feeling sad or if I'm trying to make myself feel sad.
That night, I'm not sure why I thought of you, out of the blue. I don't know what you think of me now. Are you happy for me or are you happy you're past me? Do you still read this stuff, or is my name already a faint mark on the walls of your mind which you've been trying hard to rub off?
Next day, I went on a bus ride, a long one. Double-decked, not crowded but not too empty either - the best kind. It wasn't the one I took/used to take to school. I was seeing things I wasn't used to seeing, that didn't blend in. So I took notice. Those gray clouds streaked with silver and hints of blue, coupled with that icy chill coursing through my skin, made me feel greater than you'd expect. I wasn't feeling sad, but I wasn't feeling happy either.
Then I started seeing places I was all too familiar with, and here, 'familiar' has two kinds of connotations. I saw places that I used to see en route to my old school, and I thought about how so many of us yearned to go back there, how we instinctively call it 'home', how we smiled a lot.
And then I saw places I associated with you.
If I had made different choices, I would be seeing these places every day instead, and I'm not sure if that would have made any difference. I don't know if you would have hung around, or if it still wouldn't have felt right.
You, are not supposed to be here. I was supposed to move on. So won't you tell me what to do? Are you searching for a road sign too?
I don't know, maybe this will be the last time I write about you. Maybe.
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