I hope you're happy; that's such a lie. I hope you're not happy without me though.
I thought I saw your car pass by, you in the driver’s seat with your silly old glasses, humming an annoying song and zooming way beyond speed limit.
I saw you by the window seat in one of our favourite cafes, eating watermelon feta cheese salad, one that I made you eat for the first time.
I keep seeing you around town all the time, being completely oblivious to the fact that you don't even stay in this city, so you shouldn’t really be here doing these things. Tell me one thing will you, would you not even stop by to say Hi if we ever cross paths again? Will you not give me a hug and ask me how I am doing?
So here's something that no one ever told us about this damned age of technology, we have old photos to scroll for hours available on one touch, that if we are ever brave enough to delete them from the gallery, they hound us through the media history in the apps we use. There are location trackers and two million messages to read and eight different social media platforms that help you dive into sinful stalking that make you either regret or feel miserable.
If we didn't have all of this, I think relationships would last longer, but if they didn't at least we wouldn't take the effort to look at printed albums of horrible memories. But when everything is with you on this damn smartphone; where do we escape?
They said new experiences, new friends, new work projects will be my easy happy way out of you. Reality check: they either made me guilty of doing them without you, or made me want to call you and tell you all about it, or feel so ridiculous that I just don't want to do any of it. Traveling alone is the most over rated thing as of today. Maybe it really gives you the ultimate taste of freedom, new feelings and all that, but what if, making new memories is just as depressing, refreshing the very wounds you're trying to escape?
Tell me something, would you be okay if I look through you if ever we cross paths again? If I don’t hug you, nor ask how you were doing. I can't seem to accept the fact that you're no longer around me. I keep imagining you, wanting you, needing you, and loving you. I keep drinking thinking about you, constantly obsessing if you're out there thinking about me too.
Even if I get nowhere in life, with no dreams fulfilled, no awards, no fame, no coffees in Paris, but just your forgiveness and your hand in mine again, I could die a happy woman. But hang on, wait; here's the thing about overrated stuff, not all of it is exaggerated. Although I'm pouring my heart out to you today, soon enough I'm going to be content, with no remorse, and truly happy for finally taking a stand for my life and for all you know, it will be the same technology and the same travel stories that will lead me to fulfill all my dreams that you once laughed at.