the act of choosing
i cried behind the wheel every time i drove home after i dropped you off at the airport. it only happened a few times, since you're half the world away; but that few times are what i needed to know that i'm still grieving over the death of our relationship. i still am. of course i moved on, and i know the next time you'll be here and when i drop you off at the airport again, i'll cry like a little child driving on the way home while chris isaak's wicked game playing on my car stereo.
you're struggling with things that's happening at work, and they're letting you go in october; because you chose not to relocate back to malaysia. i understand that this country is a piece of shit at the moment and you made your choice. i was hoping that i am a part of the choices that you made too, in that short time that you were here. it would've been easier if you didn't tell me that you're coming and gave me hope that we'll get to see each other again for the last time. i rather not know than knowing; and got hurt in return.
you were here last month for a couple of weeks, and the "next time" didn't happen. you are fully aware of the predicament that i am in, not to mention a declining mental health on my part. despite that, i reached out. i tried. by god i tried to meet you, but all the time that you had here in malaysian soil are just for your friends. you told me through text of how sorry you are that we didn't get to meet for the last time, but are you really though? your whatsapp status was filled with the stories of your outings with your friends. oh, how sorry you are that you don't have time for me. so so very sorry.
you chose. you chose to tell me that you'll be here, but you chose not to meet me. was there even an "us" in the first place, after all this time? "us" is basically a collection of your choices. you chose to hurt me, twice. you chose to reconnect with me back in 2023, and i decided maybe we could be friends again. you have been kind to me so far and i'm grateful but at the end of the day i don't feel like i'm a friend to you (or to anyone at the moment). friends don't dangle carrot to friends.
was it too much to ask for? a few hours of your time during lunch or dinner, a conversation, and a chance to look at your face for the last time? perhaps i'm asking for too much.
what was i thinking? i'm not important in anyone's lives, why would anyone choose me? i should've known better. i am such a fool.
we all made choices on the daily basis, unfortunately i wasn't the chosen one.
"i am a library without books, a sea of fear, agitation and want"
-- abigail, the world to come