You, Life and Everything

Do you still remember? Do you?

You told me thousand times not to forget you. I didn't. But it seems you did forget me. Today I decided to forget you too. But God, is it hard. I stand in the park with trees on both of my sides and listen to the sound of wind. I feel your hand taking mine. I squeeze your hand hard and remember the time we walked together on the streets in your country. Now I look at my hand and it's just mine that's there, holding nothing.

You turned into nothingness. We went different ways and now you're in the hands of another man. You don't have to send me letters anymore. Don't say you're sorry. Don't write me. Because it's just Life.

Yesterday I received yet another letter from you. Who am I to you? You wrote: "People who have been as close as we've been always meet again."

Months ago that would mean everything to me. Now, it's just words. Just words.

Now I speak directly to You. You know who I mean. You, yes. It's You who I still think about. And what should I say? Just that:

How satisfying it is to leave a mark on a blank surface, no matter how temporary.
— Craig Thompson