If I said sorry until the Sun drew its final breath and burst into a billion brilliant shards, would my frantic, futile apologies reach you? You said I was an angel, but you were wrong. You realize that now, don’t you?
Conversations with you were like
trying to keep up with a puppy darting around too quickly. They were
frustrating, to tell the truth. We would endlessly jump from topic to topic,
and still have so much to say. We would only run out of time. Hours under the
glaring sun on those wooden benches near the university gate, the flowers
behind us listening. Someone once told me, “You and AZ sit together during
lectures and chitchat the entire time.” The fact is, it was easy talking to
you. Too easy. Almost as natural as breathing. And I say that as a wary individual
who doesn’t relax around most people. Sometimes, the bittersweet nostalgia
knocks on my door and smiles cruelly. Public Health assignments. South Park. Silly
banter. Deep discussions about psychology, philosophy, and religion. Humorous
and tragic personal stories. Thank you for the free car rides, although you
were a reckless driver. And thank you for agreeing to be the vice president of
Anime Club for my sake when you weren’t even into anime. Remember the snail I
accidentally stepped on that you tried to save? I recognized then that you had
a big heart. Your dream was to become a stand-up comedian. I’ll never forget. It’s
unfortunate that you never got the chance. You said I was the only person you
had ever truly opened up to, the sole person who really knew you. Why me? I’m
sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I’m not going to lie. I don’t
exactly miss our friendship. If you were alive, I would never reconnect. But
now, knowing what I know would happen three years later, it gnaws at my
conscience that I abandoned you at the worst possible time, in the worst
possible way. And I can never undo it. Sorrow rips into my heart, twisting it,
churning it, chewing it, and spitting out the mangled pieces. I’m sorry. I’m
sorry. I’m sorry.
When I heard the news, my brain
froze into a numb trance, like a train coming to a sudden halt. It wouldn’t allow
me to think about you. Every time the smallest flicker of a thought of you attempted
to surface, my mind would whack it down and scramble to flee. I spent weeks doing
nothing but fully delving into fictional stories and binge-watching online streamers,
thoroughly escaping into other worlds and shutting out reality, like I do best.
I didn’t even cry for a while. But the waterworks eventually came, as I knew
they would. Shuddering, uncontrollable sobs. They weren’t tears of grief, loss
or longing. They were tears of immense guilt and something close to a
caretaker’s horror, regret and anguish. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry for being passive
aggressive, blocking your number, and cutting you off abruptly with zero
explanations. I still remember the last time I ever saw you, very clearly. It’s
as vivid in my mind as a black cat on a snowy day. I was leaving campus. As I
walked to my car, I spotted you entering through the gate. You noticed me then,
too. We both instantly turned away at the exact same moment. That’s when I
knew— you understood that our friendship was over. Frankly, I was relieved. I
couldn’t handle a confrontation. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
It wasn’t personal. You’re not the
only one I severed ties with at that time, and not the only person who was
experiencing a rough patch, who needed me. Coincidentally, a couple of my other
close friends were also going through a difficult time, yet I cut off everyone,
avoided everything, and completely isolated. I was dealing with my own demons.
I didn’t know it back then, but I was in the clutches of a full psychotic
episode. Believe it or not, I had entire delusional systems about you and my
other friends planning to break into my house, kidnap me, murder me, or harm my
family. In fact, even after you passed away, I had thoughts that you may have faked
your death to come kidnap me. Despite my disappearance, I never stopped praying
for you and the friends I forsook. I might’ve not been able to stay, but I
never stopped caring from afar. I swear it. I know that these must sound like pathetic
excuses now. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I wonder what it is you wanted to
tell me, when you said that you desperately needed to talk and I responded that
I was busy. I was so done, to be honest. Utterly overwhelmed, exhausted, and paranoid,
beyond anything you can imagine. Terrified of the outside world and human
beings, including you. You weren’t the only one suffering. There’s nothing I
could’ve done differently. It’s the absolute truth. I could no longer be the
supportive best friend I should’ve been. The caring mother you needed me to be.
The “angel” you believed I was. I wonder what happened to Waddles. I wonder why
you never took the books I got you. I still have them, you know. Sitting on my
shelf collecting dust, forever an aching reminder. And Teal misses you. I
wonder what happened to you after I left. Did things improve, or fall further
downhill? What was happening in your life at that time? I wonder how it ended.
“Tragic accident” is all I got. What kind of accident? Was it quick or slow? Peaceful
or painful? What were you thinking and feeling in the minutes and seconds
before it was over? Did you suffer? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.
I wonder what you’re doing right
now. I remember once telling you, “You never know when you’re going to die. You
could die tomorrow. So don’t delay it.” Ironic, right? I hope you took my
advice. I wonder, I wonder, I wonder. And I’ll never know. And to be completely
honest, I’d rather not. It’s a mercy that I don’t know. Because some questions
are better left unanswered. I don’t think my heart would bear the answers. In
many ways, you were the most tortured soul I’ve ever met. Life was not kind to
you. So maybe, just maybe, death was a kindness for you. I hope to God that
you’re in bliss now. And I hope that sometime, somewhere, somehow, you forgive
me. So that my soul can rest from this dreadful remorse clawing at it. I can’t
change anything. I can’t fix anything. I can only say, I’m sorry. Praying for
you is the one way I can attempt to atone for any hurt I may have caused. And I
promise you this: I will always pray for you, God-willing. That is something I
can do.
May Allah have mercy on your unique,
tender, once-tormented soul.
