"Tell me your three most vivid memories." you asked me that night.
We were only started talking for a few weeks that time. I remember telling you the boring stories from my childhood and the life-changing moment of finally watching Coldplay live, because let's be honest, my memory sucked --unless it involved something that triggered my emotions deeply. When it was your turn, you told me those great moments of your life when you live abroad and that one holiday where you drove Fiat Panda in Mallorca. I always love how you told your stories; simple yet very detailed and thorough -just like how you report your analysis at work. That night, I secretly wished that one day I would be in one of those memories that lingers so vividly in your head.
But yeah, no chance, right? The only picture of us together was that one where the coffee shop owner took our photo secretly and sent it over to my friend, the one where my face is all covered with my hair. And everything I write about you would only sounds like a myth, because even if I have all of your record collections in my room; there's still no single trace of you.
Sometimes I wonder how do I fit in that memories of yours. How did our months of simple weekend getaways during this damned pandemic fit between those glorious years of your past that you fond so much? I'm sure you still remember things because it wasn't so long ago, but I bet you will not remember the details as much as I, because let's face it; I could never compete with those. Sometimes it killed me how I can still remember every detail of our firsts as vividly as our lasts, and how my head unwantedly kept replaying it in these overly-romanticized montage. It kills me not because I hate you, or that I hate any of the memories, it kills me because I know how we will remember it differently -and how it would be easier for you to have those memories faded until I become one of the insignificant myth of your life.
Growing up, I became more and more used to having no control of how people perceived me. And that includes whether I was significant or not in your life. That being said, the only thing that matters and the only thing that I can control is just how it actually was for me, because no good will come from obsessing over something that I have no control of, right?
I don't have any regret, I guess. And although I still feel sad once in a while, it's the good kind of sad, you know? The one where you only feel this pure sadness with no resentment in it. Because whether you actually feel the same way or not, I'm still glad it happened -and glad that we were able to tell what works and what won't. And no matter how desperately I wished that I could understand how it was for you, best thing I can do right now is just to accept that I will most probably never understand you at all. And that's okay.
Because; everything has its plan, either way.
--
Comments
Post a Comment