The friends we just outgrew

My seasonal friends are now breathing in a new atmosphere where my air cannot be invited.

They were the first to know how my day went, the ones I share my snacks with, the ones I rant about stuffed obligations, the ones I promise to be in one neighborhood after holding diplomas, and the reason why I am granted to go out on strict days, but now they were the last to cast a brief look into my life—silently from a distance.

Upon entering into places where leftovers of our memories were all over, I missed them a little louder.

I missed how free I was, how my gray days turned into glowing sunshine whenever they came out of nowhere, how I willingly tossed my glass with theirs without hesitance, how I looked at them with praises, and how they told me straight into my ears that no one could ever separate the beads of our bracelets on our wrists.

But my phone’s storage warned me…I opened and scrolled through my album—found our old photographs, edited in a vintage behind the lens. Was it really over?

I think we actually made it—the promises we made for ourselves, but the cost is to lose each other.

I smiled; I tried. Because maybe, that’s it. We were only meant for one mission and not for a lifetime. It’s actually okay to the point that I got to select all and click the delete button to leave it all behind and continue passing through for a lighter bareness.