Writers Jam

primary school was a nightmare. i was the only Indian student in my entire class. i didn’t understand why teachers side-eyed me, i didn’t understand why students thought i didn’t shower, i didn’t understand the people around me, i didn’t understand myself. amidst the bustling hell that was my classroom, she stood in front of me, with her crooked teeth and outstretched hands.

i still remember going to her house and drinking ros bandung. it was so sweet and milky, though i think it was made even sweeter by her giggles when i gulped down the entire glass in one go.

“my mother would never let me drink something so processed,” i would say.

she gives a sly smile and replies, “it’s our secret then.”

i sat by her as she cried about her parents, she hugged my shivering body as i cried about mine. she screamed in joy when i bought her the new blackpink album, my heart was filled with bliss when she wrote me a letter before i left for a new school.

but as all good things do, they come to an end. and really, i had no one to blame but myself.

drifting away from your school friends is an inevitability, especially when you move to a new country. the calls become less frequent and your texts become more formal. you view their stories as a form of catching up. the memories you shared play through your mind as simply nostalgia; as if it were a TV show you enjoyed as a child.

you text, they don’t reply. you feel alone. you are alone - and you miss your best friend.

the block button is a finality, something you really can’t come back from. it’s something that apologies don’t fix. it’s an action you cry over for months to come. it’s a symbolic seal over a friendship of 10 years.

i would say i am a happy person. i still have friends i love dearly and a boyfriend i love with all my heart.

but from time to time, in the middle of the night, i stare into the void, filled with regret. the void does not reply, it does not even spare me a glance. i am left to sit in the silence, pondering “what if?”, questioning if she would come back. i know the answer is no, and that i deserve that answer.

this is a rant, not a story. and it is a very shallow and twisted retelling of the true story. it is by no means meant to justify my actions of pushing her out of my life and it is not the only time i have done something like this to someone beloved before.

in fact, this is a confession, a warning to those reading. the regret that forever clenches your heart will far surpass the momentary relief that comes from “protecting your peace”. reach out to those friends. the ones that stopped talking to you. the ones that you have lovely memories with. talk to them, reminisce with them. don’t let it go.

as for me, it is as the title suggests. i was always the one to leave first. i was always so afraid of being on the receiving end “of the one that got away” that i always made the decision to leave first. and it always ends up being a decision I regret.

take this as a commandment to your soul, and don’t make the same mistakes I did.