We both found ourselves in a hopeless place, each carrying a large suitcase, looking lost along with people who are probably lost too. You approached me first and I was hesitant at first. I remember I was busy fidgeting and drawing circles on my legs while you are so nonchalant about this. We exchanged polite a�?hi-sa�? and a�?how are you-s?a�? and a�?how have you been-s?a�? We told each other our names. We spoke of our favorite bands and artists. We speak of our top five pet peeves. We discussed the most superficial things. We traded stories about our suitcases and whata��s within and it struck me at that point, while I devour your words, while I look at those eyes that seem to illuminate something within me, that I want to get the hell out of this place.
I know ita��s too soon. We barely knew each other. I dona��t even know what your favorite color is, if you have a brother or sister, or if you have a third nipple in your chest. But I have not felt this feeling before and so were you. I asked you if I could carry your things and you let me. You asked me if you could carry mine and I said no. I warned you that ita��s too heavy, heavier than yours. But you were adamant. And you didna��t listen.
I hope you listened.
And as we leave that place, our footsteps in sync with each other, you let me look through your stuff. I asked about your things, your weird things, your beautiful things, things that would have appalled a normal person, even things that you deemed horrible.
I asked you about everything. And I accepted all those without hesitation.
Without blinking my eyes,
I should have double-thought.
I let you look through my stuff too. What you didna��t know is that youa��re the first person I trusted to delve into my stuff. What you didna��t know is that suitcase is my world and thata��s why ita��s heavy. Inside my suitcase are the things I collected in the past: my shattered and tattered dreams, my menial aspirations, a stack of sad stories and even my demons.
But as days went by, you got tired of carrying my things.
And I said sorry.
You said I(t) was too much for you.
And I said sorry.
You said it was too heavy and I offered to carry both our things but you said no. You want yours back.
And I let you.
And Ia��m sorry.
Ita��s only a shame that our journey has just begun yet wea��re ending it now. Or maybe it was doomed to end from the very start. Or maybe we didna��t try hard enough.
And now therea��s a fork in the fork
I took the right one.