We had barely spoken in months; yet I see you almost every day.
Today you were sitting across the room with your friends, as usual, but you seemed a bit more distressed than you typically are. At one point you left for a bit to talk on the phone. And when you sat down again you seemed a bit quieter, a bit more distant. I kept studying my psychology worksheet, glossing over words: "An introvert is reserved, less sociable, withdrawn, quiet, solitary, needs time alone to recharge, concerned with own thoughts and experiences, more shy, anxious..." They seemed to tell a story almost, one that I used to live out again and again and again with you, as if I kept re-reading the same old storybook even though I already knew its ending - and its ending was always quite a cruddy one. But I used to love it anyway. Something about it. Something about you. After reading that sentence I looked up towards where you were seated. In one of those rare moments you were already looking at me - perhaps somewhere behind me, really, because you never seemed to acknowledge my existence anyway - and without words I could see it in your green eyes. You were broken. I wasn't the one that broke you, and in that moment it wasn't that you broke yourself - you were just broken. Lost. A little afraid, maybe, whether you'd admit it or not. In that moment I just wanted you to be okay. And in that moment it hit me that time is a linear thing, as odd as it is. There's no going backward through anything in life. Only forward. One-way street style. And it also hit me that someday would come where it would be the last time I would ever see you, be it in a year or in fifty, but there would definitely be a last time. That time wasn't today. It wasn't months ago, although I wouldn't really have cared if it was, or at least I don't care now... but whether I care or not, it doesn't matter, because in those few seconds, in that moment, I had you. Or maybe I didn't. But you're here. And I don't love you, and you don't care whether I love you or not - but whether you care or not, it doesn't matter, because I know that time is probably one of the most priceless things in this world, as it can only be spent once. One-way street style. And I might totally dislike you, almost everything about you, all of these things that you did, all of these foolish ways that you spent your time - but seeing as we probably only have little left together, right now, I may as well learn to love it again. Because even if I know how the storybook ends, I know that there's something special about these pages - and if I'm going to be stuck reading the story even one more time, even if only for a moment, I may as well love it. Love the time. Spend it well. Always love. ♥
valerieexrainbowss