A Memory of My Abandoned Friends

Since the inception of the pandemic, and its subsequent waves we all have endured different lifestyles, and the revolution has been so abrupt that no one other than Hollywood or scientists would have anticipated this. And besides this change that Covid-19 brought into our living style, our perceptions, our viewpoints, our preferences, our disposition, and our personalities, above all it has changed our reflection of memories.

Since the lockdown that compelled us to make our homes our permanent niches, my memories have made the room into my brain, revolving constantly into my cerebrum, and sitting there like a mischievous backbencher, who kicks my amygdala, reflecting the old memories of people that were and that are dear to me, but time or circumstances or departure has set us apart, and all that I have of them were memories, living a certain remembrance in my mind, strengthened by the loneliness, that resided in me during the lockdown.

And as those memories ingrained in there, and they strike like the tectonic plates, resulting in an earthquake of emotions and reflections of those, who were closest to me, and while looking back on these past circumstances, I have been realizing my mistakes, the part I played in setting us apart, and how I pushed those who were there for me, every time I needed them. I remembered a dead friend of mine, who always wanted to be with me, to sit with me, and how I used to push her away because someone accused her of theft. And the memory of her death day ventured there, and I would sit in front of the TV all laughing, watching a movie, and suddenly tears popped out of my eyes, and I realized there was a visitor in here, whom I welcomed by severance of my emotions. I remember the day she died, she came to me asking if she could sit next to me in class, and how rudely I replied,

“I don’t wanna sit with thieves”

And I could see tears in her eyes as she went away, and by the evening everyone was discussing the death of a little girl from 4th grade. What If I could have sat with her, what If I could have told her that It doesn't matter if she stole or not, she will always be my friend, and that we will help each other to fight our darker sides because we all have it. And how I came back from her burial and I cried, and No matter how much I wanted her to be back and to tell her, that I was there, always there for her, that my shoulder will be a napkin for her, and that my arms will support her, I couldn’t because she was gone, and she was gone for good.

And believe me whenever we hear a sad story, or watch a sad movie, we are not crying for them, we are crying for what we have lost, we are fitting our stories into theirs because we weren’t able to cry on ours!