Brevity, Quill


You don’t talk to me anymore. You don’t look at me anymore. It seems as if I am clinging on to a memory of the past. It feels as if I should stop my futile efforts to call you. I start questioning the time we spent together. The books we read, the secrets we shared, the time we stole a packet of maggi from the store, the time when I missed my mother and you held onto me, crooning our song in my ears. You protected me from bullies and beat them black and blue. You knew I was poor and I couldn’t afford the things you liked but still you were hellbent on making friends with me.

But, I question these memories which appear to be fading dreams, good times to brief to last. You walk into the class and see through me. I look at you, when you move around with the popular girls of our class, the way you talk with them, the way you say nasty things about me without a care in the world. And the way I feel can never be measured on our scale of emotions, how hurt I feel, you can’t comprehend. We sit next to each other, far apart. How crazy I was to think that our worlds could meet!

I miss your watermelon scent, when it wafted through the air and you would dance on the streets, making a shy girl like me follow you and swirl around, with the cool breeze and the warm sunshine lighting up our path. I miss snorting with you and burping loudly. I miss having a person who would make me believe in myself. But the castles have turned to sand and the tables have turned, so have you, leaving me crying in the shadows.