The End

And so it fell.

The last scab.

Scraped off by that impersonal message on Whatsapp. An app you claim to barely use. Because you don’t like to type.

And so I called a couple of times and they went unanswered.

I texted a few times… ranted even. Hoping you would see my message and respond, with an emoticon at least.

I started to feel really bad. Especially about how fucked up it was when I found out more than a month later that your grandmotherhad passed away. I had spoken with a common friend for a while and even he didn’t mention it. I fought back tears through meetings that day. I cried for you. And for her. And for what we had so obviously lost.  I trembled as I dialed your number. Hoping that yet again you would not answer.

Except for this flash… I know nothing about you. Nothing about your life for the past year. Nothing about any change in your eyes, your smile, your face.

I texted again. The last time, I promised myself. I wasn’t surprised to see banter in the comments section on posts on Facebook. I wasn’t surprised that you did not reply.

I was however caught absolutely unawares when I did get a message. A broadcast, probably. Impersonal. From you, about you, asking for inputs on a newly launched website. I feel happy for you that you finally did it. I know you will be successful. I feel that in the time that has passed you have made close friends that will help and support you with your quest. Much like I did the first few times. I know that you have enough people that you are close to to help you.

I realize now that that last statement is not about me being selfish or trying to make this about me. It is about the acceptance that I am no longer an important person in your life. There are others. There will be more. This is about moving on. Finally.