(Good old days/For the sake of old times/Times gone fast)
It’s been a while.
I miss you. And the next thing I knew, I already picked up my phone and texted you a sincere ‘how are you?’ eventhough I knew how you might react to that random question. It was my fault. I hurt you. The cuts I gave you were too deep. The scars will always be there. And there it is, you texted back ‘I’m fine’ and there’s silence. And another text ‘It’s getting late, I gotta go. Bye..’
It was all on me. I am sorry. You don’t deserve being hurt like that. I treated you like you were only an option while I was your priority. If only I know how to ease off the pain I cause you, I’d do it..
Today, in spite of all the excuses of why I left you, I think I miss you.
Surprisingly, eventhough I know that you don’t read those books, you hate history, you don’t listen to my favorite music, you don’t understand philosophy, you can’t follow my stream of thought and my arguments, you can’t speak any foreign language, yet, I think I miss you.
And the fact that you replied to my greetings is more than enough. The fact that you texted back after barely talking for six years is more than enough. The fact that we talk to each other only when it’s my birthday, yours and Christmas day, is more than enough. The fact that I’m the only person you run to and hug without saying a word everytime you’re not sober is more than enough. The fact that everytime I look in your direction, and you pay attention, is more than enough. More. Than. Enough.
Why do I miss you?
It’s because….. you listen. You always listen…
And it’s been a while, since I’ve been listened to…
“I have no idea what are you talking about, but go on, keep on talking, I like it when you’re talking passionately, and I like it here, listening to your crazy fast talking. So go on, talk..”
“You have others to debate you. But you don’t have that many others to be your last resort. Your trash can. I’m here, go on, talk.. I’ll listen..”
Good old days. Times gone fast.
For the sake of old times. I miss the old times.
Auld lang syne.
– i –
I wrote this down while the songs of your all-time-favorite-band/local legend was tuning in my ears, I even reminisce for 2 minutes when I heard the song that we once sing out loud in their concert, our favorite song, Larut.
I think I miss you. Or maybe I just miss what it felt like when I was with you.
I miss being listened to. And none of them do it better than you. 🙂