The moment that you disappeared will always be a part of me. It marked my memory like a cigarette accidentally marks a piece of cloth, quickly, ruthless, hard to ignore and even harder to forget.
With you, my life was a little bit more colorful, a little bit more vivid than it is now.
With you, I was a little bit more, and the others were a little bit less.
You gave me memories and filled my days with stories. You gave me time for myself, and music to underline it. I always felt like being in my own world, our own world, parallel to theirs and yet closed in itself.
Yet here I am, moving on and existing without you, somehow harder, but still doable. Every end is a new beginning, they say. When a door closes, another one opens, they say.
And if they knew how much I miss you they would tell me it is silly. First world problems, they’d say. Get a life.
But they don’t know how much I miss you. They don’t know how hard it is when a part of your life, something you were so used to, is gone, suddenly and unexpectedly. Without even the slightest warning.
I could always rely on you. You guided me. You always knew the way, and you always knew which one to take. You were my connection to reality, and my connection to myself. The past and the future, distorting the present, making it bearable.
Who will guide me now when I am lost? Who will assist me when I need help?
Nothing and no one is irreplaceable. But the moment something is taken from you might still be the hardest moment you’ll ever experience.
Every time again.