It was just another summer night, one like all the other warm evenings that came before. Everything was calm; there was nothing new---except that there was. My close friend of two years was set to move away in two days to a city more than two hundred kilometers away. This is weird, I thought. I feel weird.
Over coffee, she asked me a question she had never uttered before, “Will you miss me?” My mind turned blank, and my throat tightened. Of course, I will. “Why would I?” I said in a somewhat harsh tone, only to regret it a few minutes later.
The conversation quickly moved to a different topic, more so to the past than the future. I started to feel myself slowly getting comfortable. The past has always been my place of solace. But even with the growing warmth in me, I couldn’t help but feel that pang of anxiousness. Because my friend, the person that never left my side, is slowly leaving.
Later that night, after our party broke off so she could pack her bags, I found myself in my girlfriend’s bed, seeking solace in her presence. I have never felt so left behind in my entire life before, ever, I thought to myself. She held me and stared at this pathetic blob of anxiousness. I stared at the star stickers on the ceiling, some peeling off, some not glowing like they used to.
And with that sight, I no longer felt so left behind.
Because although some of my closest friends are leaving the comfort of home for something bigger, even if they’ll be hundreds of kilometers away, I know that they will always be here. And a piece of me will always be with them; glowing in the darkness.
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