Brief Description of How it Feels to Let Go.
The memory of that day has been buried in my mind ever since. Not so I can't remember it, but so I can only go back to it when I need to. I don't remember clearly how the entire day went, but the last two hours --in which my mind was running back and forth between phrases such as "this is the last time", "don't forget this", "say good-bye to this" --remain intact. We were sitting in a circle ignoring our responsibilities and were focused on beautifying my shirt with colors and phrases. It was an amusing yet flattering thing to see. Some of their comments and the phrases they printed on the whiteness of my shirt sent a rush over my body, but the tears only reached my eyes once and didn't even have the opportunity to reach my cheeks. That was a surprise.
I was looking at them from a distance, as if I was watching a movie instead of my reality. I was looking at them like a mother looks at her son as he parts towards his new life overseas; with pride and pain together. I was listening to their words and laughter with the same nostalgia a former musician listens to his own music being played by someone else. I was framing the scene like a photographer whose life depends on the last shot his camera provides, and I was breathing the emotion like an artist stares at his finalized masterpiece.
Then, the time came.
We stood and started walking towards our good-bye. My body started shaking as I realized that my time was running out and I hadn't done anything about it. I wondered why my tears hadn't come out yet and had started to blame the shock for it, when my best friend, who had been right next to me the entire time, finally hugged me. It was her hug that made me realize what was happening and what led out all my tears. The others didn't take long in joining the hug, increasing my need to hold onto them forever so I wouldn't have to go.
Though I had to.
It was my best friend, the same girl who had started the hug, who eventually broke it and forced us to continue walking until we reached the classroom. My hands and arms and soul and brain were tingling as I changed and pretended to be fine in front of those strangers who didn't know what was going on in my life. The dreaded bell finally rung, and as the classroom emptied there was one specific person I couldn't stop looking at. I realized then, as the classroom silenced and the courtyard filled with noise, that my time had finally ran out. We were staring at each other not knowing exactly what to do; the world was yelling us to hurry but our minds were screaming each other's names.
I finally gave in to her arms, the same ones who had both started and broken the previous hug, and cried to her.
I know she was talking to me and I know how all the pain in her voice felt in my ears, yet to this day I don't remember what she said, and I blame both myself and time for it.
I remember hearing her name from the other side of the windows, and I remember how hard it was to let go. We separated at least two times and went back to each other twice as many. I don't know what the people around us thought about our sad and dramatic scene in the middle of the hallway, but I have never cared about that in the least.
What I remember the most, though, is how strong it felt to hug her there, with so many confused people around us, so many screams and names being thrown around us, so many reasons pulling us apart, and so many "this is the last time you will see her; the last time you will hug her" that were running inside my head. It was magnetic and strong, yet natural and emotive; was tough and heartbreaking, yet hopeful and heart mending.
To this day, that scene remains as the last time that I saw my best friend and the last time that I hugged her, but even so, and with all the odds we carry against us, I can assure you that it won't stay like that forever.
P.S- I miss you. So much.
I was looking at them from a distance, as if I was watching a movie instead of my reality. I was looking at them like a mother looks at her son as he parts towards his new life overseas; with pride and pain together. I was listening to their words and laughter with the same nostalgia a former musician listens to his own music being played by someone else. I was framing the scene like a photographer whose life depends on the last shot his camera provides, and I was breathing the emotion like an artist stares at his finalized masterpiece.
Then, the time came.
We stood and started walking towards our good-bye. My body started shaking as I realized that my time was running out and I hadn't done anything about it. I wondered why my tears hadn't come out yet and had started to blame the shock for it, when my best friend, who had been right next to me the entire time, finally hugged me. It was her hug that made me realize what was happening and what led out all my tears. The others didn't take long in joining the hug, increasing my need to hold onto them forever so I wouldn't have to go.
Though I had to.
It was my best friend, the same girl who had started the hug, who eventually broke it and forced us to continue walking until we reached the classroom. My hands and arms and soul and brain were tingling as I changed and pretended to be fine in front of those strangers who didn't know what was going on in my life. The dreaded bell finally rung, and as the classroom emptied there was one specific person I couldn't stop looking at. I realized then, as the classroom silenced and the courtyard filled with noise, that my time had finally ran out. We were staring at each other not knowing exactly what to do; the world was yelling us to hurry but our minds were screaming each other's names.
I finally gave in to her arms, the same ones who had both started and broken the previous hug, and cried to her.
I know she was talking to me and I know how all the pain in her voice felt in my ears, yet to this day I don't remember what she said, and I blame both myself and time for it.
I remember hearing her name from the other side of the windows, and I remember how hard it was to let go. We separated at least two times and went back to each other twice as many. I don't know what the people around us thought about our sad and dramatic scene in the middle of the hallway, but I have never cared about that in the least.
What I remember the most, though, is how strong it felt to hug her there, with so many confused people around us, so many screams and names being thrown around us, so many reasons pulling us apart, and so many "this is the last time you will see her; the last time you will hug her" that were running inside my head. It was magnetic and strong, yet natural and emotive; was tough and heartbreaking, yet hopeful and heart mending.
To this day, that scene remains as the last time that I saw my best friend and the last time that I hugged her, but even so, and with all the odds we carry against us, I can assure you that it won't stay like that forever.
P.S- I miss you. So much.
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