The cruellest month

Canada. 2007. It’s a bright afternoon at the end of August. You check your email, and there’s a message from a friend you haven’t been hearing from for a few weeks. She is writing you about another friend, whom you haven’t been seeing for about a year.

You’ll never see her again.

You go away from the computer, in shock. You want to go outside. You want to breathe. You want to put air in your lungs, but your body has somehow forgot how to breathe. You have to go outside, you have to breathe. It doesn’t seem real, does it? It didn’t really happen, did it? It’s a dream, now you’re going to wake up.

But it is real. It did happen. She did do it.

You start breathing again, but it still feels unreal. A dream. A nightmare. It’s going to feel like this for a few days, weeks. You start to think about it, trying to make some sense out of it. Could someone have done something to avoid it? Could you have done something? But it’s too late anyways.

Do you feel guilty about it? You tell yourself that it just happens to lost touch with friends. It’s not your fault. But then you start remembering. You were so close, and then you started to drift apart. Slowly. You remember the times when you were not listening, or half listening, or listening but not with real interest. You were there when her problems started. And maybe you have even tried to be helpful at first, but then…you repeat yourself that it just happens to lost touch with friends.

They say time heals. With time pain will ease. And it does. Remembering the good times also helps. You do have many happy memories after all.

But at times it’s still difficult. It’s painful and it hurts.

And you can’t help but wonder.



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