They pack up and go.


Everyone tends to leave me. They pack up and go. A solemn goodbye is all I get.

Part of me wonders each time if a curse has been placed on me. It starts off with finding this amazing person, realizing that both of you are on the same boat and becoming the best of friends. Only as it happens, they leave to write the next chapter of their life somewhere else, somewhere far from you and all you end up doing is shedding a few tears of sadness over losing them and wishing them good luck.

Social media no longer helps.

At first we make promises of never losing touch with one another. A promise that remains etched onto our skin like a tattoo, one we intend to fully fulfill. Only life catches up and sure enough excuses become more visible than ‘hellos’ and ‘how are yous?’ And from talking every day we move to talking only on the weekends till we’re left leaving a wall post on their birthday. Inboxes remain empty because there is a hesitation within you that stops your fingers from collaborating an intricate piece of reminiscing and catching up.

Our friendship was like a symphony that flowed naturally without disturbance. So how did it lose sound over time? I wish I could stop you from leaving. Press pause or just tear out that chapter that requires for you to leave.

Eventually, life resumes its usual course and you learn to sidestep those memorable moments and places for sometime till they stop hurting and you become consumed in your own life once again. Your hesitation of how you will continue without them, no longer exists.

Travelling together.

Spending important moments together.


I tend to imagine everything tenfold. But alas, circumstances always catch up and just as quickly the future no longer seems on our side.

I wish everything didn’t seem like a distant dream or a single wish that my heart makes even though it knows it’s all far-fetched.

I no longer hold the key to our friendship and I’m afraid neither do you. But a part of me will always hope against it all that even when we meet, whenever that may be, things are just the way we left them.

I pray that distance really does make the heart grow fonder.

In the eyes of the beholder


She fumbles with her ice blue dress. Her fingers shake as she bites down on her lip to silence a sob. Mascara stains her rosy cheeks and she tastes blood from biting down to hard.

This blasted dress needs to come off.
Her hair needs to escape its perfect placement.
Nothing about this night seems hopeful.
Nothing about this night seems happy anymore.

The dress clings to her body and she wants to tear it apart. Just to get it off. Because nothing about this night seems right. Everything suddenly seems wrong.

Why did she ever think that she looked pretty?
Clearly no one else thought so.
Why did she put in so much effort?
When not a single eye wandered her way, all night.

Because somewhere in her heart she hopes to be beautiful. To be the one that steals breaths with every step she takes, and locks them away. Never to be returned. She wants to maybe tell her daughter someday that she was beautiful.

Life is a work-in-progress.
Soon none of these things matter anymore.
And all you want to do is show up in your pjs.
Who wants to put so much effort anyway?

That night was the worst. A memory that would never fade even if she tried. That dress still hangs in her closet even though all she wants to do is burn it along with all the painful memories.

But life doesn’t work that way.