The End Of A True Bond

Dear Ru, I do miss you and our mischiefs maybe I got many friends but not like you

And I still call you my friend, because you were, are, and always will be my friend. Yes, we don't talk anymore. I don't know why you changed and happened to be my nightmare, but before that we were close. We were friends, real friends. It sucks to not just pick up the phone and talk to you. You know, just like that, no work, nothing to talk, just pick the phone and start with our meaningless talks. I miss them, my friend. I miss you.

I won't discuss what exactly went wrong and whose fault was it. I just want to say that after so many days, the only thing that I do remember is our good times together. Yes, after the fight, the bad words lingered on my mind. I was hurt, upset, and angry. But now, I only remember our laughter and smiles. We were good, weren't we? I mean so many memories, so many incidents, and so many stupid stuff, together.

I know even you are mad at me. I know you want to slap me too. But, let's bring it out, the anger, the hurt. It's killing us, both. Let's slap each other. Let's punch each other in the gut. But then, let's hug, my friend. Let's cry together. Let's look at each other and just feel that old love, that old warmth, that old bond, our friendship.

It wells my eyes, you know, while writing this, I have tears, real tears. I have a lump in my throat, as I imagine your face looking at me, smiling, yet in tears. I missed you. Trust me. I felt lonely. I was so frustrated, at times, that why can't we just talk? Why aren't we fighting for it? So many messages I used to type that went unsent. So many times, I used to just stare at your number, but could not hit call. I wanted to share so many good news with you, and so many bad news too, like always.

You know, at times, I felt so weak and helpless that I did want to just rush to your door and cry my sorry tears, begging you to take me back. But I don't know what stopped me. I don't know why I didn't just call and say "hey, something had happened, but I hate you. Come back, please. I beg you, for us, for old time's sake". Hey, can you just put a hand on your heart and read the next few lines, please?

I hate you, okay. I want you back in my life. And I am ready to say sorry, daily, for the rest of my life to have my friend back. No ego, no fake pride, no big or small, just us. You were too special for me to lose you over a fight, no matter how big. Come back, please. I beg you, on my knees, with folded hands, and rainy eyes. Please, for me? One last time? Just remember me, okay? I will forgive you because am not like you na

Love, then, now, and forever.

We're a generation of sad people.

We're a generation of people who've spent half their struggle in building walls and the other half is breaking them down. We're a generation of heartbreaks-- heartbreaks we try to fix through our near perfect, aesthetically pleasing Instagram feeds, by stacking up memes and defining love through never-ending, unbreakable Snapchat streaks.

We've lived for some 21 years and spent 16 of it is just moving on- moving on from a ghosting ex-boyfriend, from an almost-relationship, from an estranged best friend and from people you met and fell in love with, wore their photographs in a locket around your neck; soon to realize they vanished like the morning fog as an afternoon came about.

We're a generation of people who stick to polaroids more than silhouettes because that's easier. We're a generation that looks for homes in other people only to find motels that are flooded during the holiday season and deserted otherwise. We're a generation with temporary eyes looking for permanent places to unpack. 

We want to fly but we chain ourselves. We want to scream but the only way we know how to express- is through the lyrics of the songs we avoid in public, the sketches we doodle at the back of our notebooks, the movie scenes we secretly play on repeat late at night when the silence of it fails to provide us comfort.

We're a generation of crowded clubs but lonely eyes, brimming glasses but empty hearts. We want to be taken care of but we're too tired to take care of. We want to be loved but we don't know how to love. 

We're a generation full of desperate but helpless people with huge holes inside of us that we're dying to fill- holes we fill with trends, gossip and beer instead. We live the same routine every day in the urge to do something different.

We're a generation full of sad people tragically waiting to be understood, unwound and un-saddened.