Strangers, that’s all we were. Two people that happened to meet at a point in time through different circumstances. I come from from a world so vastly different from yours, yet something out there conspired to bring us together for a brief period. It started with innocent conversation, nothing deviant from the norm. After the initial pleasantries, we remained in parallel pursuits. It wasn’t until recently that our paths collided once more, but this time things we different, we were different. I was recovering from a broken heart, while you were just coming into terms with yours. We’ve known each other for quite a while, even working within close vicinity of one another, yet you were out of focus until that time.
I never really knew you. I had an image of you created in my head upon our initial meeting: typical pre-med with the inflated ego to complement. That’s all you were for the years prior. It wasn’t until you were broken, just as I was, that I saw you. With your walls shattered, your ego broken, and your mask set aside the only thing left was you sans the image you built for yourself. I saw your passions and the things that make you tick. Your quirks became endearing and I began to grow attached to our little conversations- the good morning texts and sweet good nights. We were two lonely people trying to make sense of the world around us.
Maybe that’s just what we both needed at the time, someone to make it seem like things are still okay. Or that we were still capable of being wanted even if our object of affection no longer does. We knew we were incompatible. We knew that whatever we had was transient and ephemeral. When it was over, I first felt a great sense of longing, as though something was missing without getting a text or a message from you.
As time passed, the sense of gaping emptiness closed in and I was whole again. I haven’t thought of you since our last tryst. The last kiss was my goodbye. I didn’t bother attending your going away party knowing you’d put on that mask to hide yourself becoming a false image of the guy I almost liked. I’ve boxed away and locked up all the previous emotions and sentiments I had to make room for whatever the future holds with someone else. It wasn’t until you texted me after the party saying how sad you were not to say final farewells that the floodgates opened again. I don’t miss you like I used to, I don’t long for the texts, nor hope for your call. But I do wonder what could have been.
What could have been if the timing was right. If we both figured out what we wanted and went for it. If we set aside our fear of rejection, stopped playing games, and gave up that damn pride. Then what? Would our little stolen moments amount to something more than their isolated incidents? Maybe one day we’ll meet again and realize what we could have been and give it an honest try then. Maybe you’ll still think of me, maybe I’ll still think of you. Maybe. I guess we’ll never know.