Did you cross the street when you saw her, hand in hand with another man, laughter oozing from her eyes? You did turn around and walked towards the opposite avenue, only to reach at the end of the street where you’d taken numerous strolls with her. And just like that, she’ll not even say but you’ll know, even after they’ve left, people never really leave.

Did you picture him at your funeral, reading out an eulogy, smiling at your name through his tears? You did imagine him always by your side, in life and beyond, but pardon, what happened? He was too scared to stay, wasn’t he? He said he still loves you, but can’t be with you, and why? For all you know, you were breathing him in, and for him, you were a hoax, terribly, terribly unreal.

You were always a lover of the mountains, and he was your peak, but you didn’t even reach the base summit, and why? Because he didn’t let you? No, because you, yes you gave him the power and permission to break you. You consented that girl you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with to make you feel inferior, inadequate. Don’t you see it? Your tears, they’re all your doing. No one could’ve made you sit on your bathroom floor at 2 am and smoke weed if you wouldn’t have let them touch you in places you didn’t know existed.

A nod, a half smile, that’s all it takes. When they leave, they leave back a part of them, and take along a part of you. But that’s it. The part that’s gone isn’t the part you can’t live without. You’ll live again, hell you’ll even love again. Do not ever think otherwise.

And next time, I hope you don’t cross to the other side of the street when you see them.

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