Unfriend

two-friends

I unfriended him today on Facebook. I feel tears marching their way towards my eyes. I feel a frown slipping its way down my lips. I feel a heartbeat thumping against my chest. I feel moisture in my throat drying out. I feel a weight resting on my shoulders. I feel a throbbing coursing through my brain. This is how sadness feels. This is how anger feels.

This is a step that I am proud to have taken. I don’t know if it’s the right step, I am proud nonetheless. I have held on to that hope for far too long. To be honest, I know that I still am holding on. I am still waiting for him to change his mind. I am waiting for everybody to change their minds. They never have. I don’t know why I am still hoping that they ever will.

My shoulders are getting heavier still. My breath is getting shallower.

I am proud of what I have done. That is all there is to it right now. There is anger, sadness, disappointment, discouragement. But I hope still. So pride. That’s all there is to it right now.

Goodbyes

Image

It often takes me until the last minute to realize that things are happening around me. The same goes for goodbyes in my life. In that final second that someone is walking out the door (or getting off the jeep), a sudden rush of emotions and thoughts course through me. I remember all the questions I wanted to ask. The thank yous I wanted to say. The apologies I wanted to ask for. The wise-ass quotes I wanted to impart. But usually, after drowning in that sea of clarity, I would resurface only to find that the person I wanted to give them to is gone.

Everytime that I am left behind or when I leave someone behind, nothing is really ever good enough for goodbyes. No questions. No thank yous. No apologies. No wise-ass quotes. But if one thing was ever really good enough for good bye, it would probably be this question — Did I matter at all? Had you not known me, would you be different? Did the time from when I said hi to the time I said goodbye even cut a portion into your pie graph?

After I ask that, I ask another question. Why does it matter if I mattered? It should be my pie graph I’m more concerned with. I’m awful at goodbyes. But I’m good with what’s left behind. I NEVER forget. I give a part of my memory to anyone who has ever been in it. I give them a portion. A stock. A slice. Whatever you wanna call it. It’s all the same. It’s all just a little piece of my heart.