Once Again, We Are Strangers
Dear Rina,
Since I started writing, I’ve always thought that I write what I want to remember. I put those moments and memories into a place called eternity. I was wrong, though. Eternity only exists in fairy tales and some far-flung land of nowhere. I’m writing this to tie up some loose ends. By the time I put the last letter in this journal, I hope I’ve forgotten you. I know that this is a one-way ticket. We can’t go back to what we were, even if we wanted to.
I’m the one to blame for it. You opened up to me and I messed up misinterpreting this friendship — wanting to know whether we could work out or not. I’ve been trying to come to terms with settling down as a friend, but I couldn’t. I wanted more than I’m grateful for having you to rely on as a friend. The foundation of our friendship isn’t cracked down this time. It’s crumbling to sand.
I was certain of one thing. Of everything I’ve done, there’s just one time when I can say that I did the right thing and know that it’s true. When I went to meet you. Reality proves me wrong, though. I was wrong to associate you with some emotions in my life. And now that you’re gone, those emotions won’t come back.
I can no longer take your words at face value and must second-guesses everything you say and what you have said in the past. Those memories disappearing before me also took away the faithfulness and trustworthiness that once existed.
Dear Rina,
The unpredictable nature of human connections never ceases to amaze me. To witness the sudden freezing of once-warm ties, and how quickly they can crumble and fade away into nothingness. The loneliest moment when everything falls apart and all I can do is stare blankly. It’s a wretched feeling, but one that I can’t help but be fascinated by.
I’ve always hated just how much of an idiot I’m. Turns out it’s worse. Who would’ve thought that one could’ve spent this much time, gotten lots of people involved, said all sorts of important things, and still ended up with zero results. I hated that I’m taking it seriously while you’re playing a god-damned joke. I’m serious about it all. I’m the biggest idiot of all.
I know it’s not my fault. But that’s the whole point. I did everything right, but it still amounts to nothing. I made no mistake and you didn’t grow any feeling whatsoever. What’s the point of this?
I spent the whole time looking for answers, thinking that it might change something. Perhaps, making me a little less miserable. And look where I am now. I don’t just run out of answers, I also run out of hope.
Dear Rina,
Perchance you read this, don’t worry about me. I’m fine, just not happy. Some people aren’t built to be happy after all. Though what I mean by fine is not as in fine. But as in you don’t need to worry about me. As Bob Dylan once said: Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright.
I should get over myself thinking that you worry about me, whereas I know that I no longer have any place in your life. I figured out that it is possible to believe in something and still fail to live up to it. Or maybe I knew it before we could use the word we. I should stop taking everything as a lesson and suck it up. Sometimes, you just fail. And this is the time, or as Billy Joel once said, And So It Goes.
The joke’s on me, thinking that maybe someday you could be a lull to the storm inside my head. You were a big part of mine because you became part of who I was. That’s the problem, I rely on you when I shouldn’t. I get attached when I shouldn’t. I fancy our interactions hoping that it could be more than a friendship when I shouldn’t.
I shouldn’t blame hope or expectation if what I lack is the willingness to accept reality. I’m not mad or disappointed. I’m just being me, in between grief and anger. This is the usual me, knowing that happiness is too much of a luxury for me. The last confession and rejection that came from you didn’t break my heart, it was broken a long time ago. You only did the finishing move on it. I’m glad that you rejected this pathetic miserable piece of failure.
Dear Rina,
Maybe in another life, we could have our happy ending. Maybe, there’s a universe where we do end up together. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll last and not only meant to be.
By writing this, I want to stop those maybe haunting my head. I don’t want to remember you for longer than I have known you. And after everything that’s happened, we can’t stay friends. Even though it has come to this, I don’t want you to suffer in everlasting agony. It’s not that I don’t want you to eat anymore, it’s that I don’t want you to eat at the same table as mine.
Until we meet again, I hope you’re doing fine in life. But knowing that you’re Rina, god will lend his hand one way or another. Until we meet again, I hope life treats you well. I hope you treat life with care. Until we meet again. Perhaps.
Amidst Grief and Anger, 13th May 2023
M. Bayu Bajra
