I wish people can take everything with them when they leave.

Everything that is and might be intertwined with the entire concept of the one who left. The dried-up mud on the shoes worn during that unforgettable drizzly evening, the crumpled worksheets in memory of a tough Accounting problem, the laughters and the songs which are now unclear voices in one’s head, too unclear to even recognize if they were really once part of what used to be a wonderful reality or if they’re just plain and ridiculous delusions and hallucinations ever since, the past recolletions, the questions forever unanswered, the indefinite and inconsistent emotions. Even the potential pain the one that is left behind might feel. Everything. Just everything.

When someone leaves, another one is always left behind. Why is it so hard for people to just simply turn backs on each other and walk separate, opposite directions? When someone leaves, the other one, the one that is left behind, emptily and hopelessly stares at the silhouette of the one that left, and then sighs. And finally, decides to take the opposite track. That’s the time when the one that left becomes the one that is left behind. They switch places. Until later on, they both become the one that left. Either one of them believes that the earth is round, that somewhere, in their separate flights, their ends will meet. Either one of them. But never the two of them.

I wish people to be more considerate to bring everything with them when they leave. The past recolletions, the questions forever unanswered, the indefinite and inconsistent emotions and most especially the potential pain the one that is left behind might feel. But no. No. It’s sad that the world is fair but the people in it are not.