Isn't it strange, and sometimes sad, how certain people slip in and out of our lives like shadows; words exchanged, faces seen and then gone, never to come back. It would be a lie to say I haven't consciously cut contact on more than one occasions- a coward's response to all that scares or makes me uncomfortable.

I remember mornings and evenings spent with persons I haven’t seen since. Some were strangers, others I used to call friends. I let them tell their stories, laughed at their jokes, listened to their music; we got drunk and high together, watched sunsets and sunrises, swam in moonlit seas; we explored caves and hollow trees, walked for hours in deserted cities, carved pumpkins for Halloween; we stumbled upon great discoveries, made up our own songs and words and proverbs...

Most were nice to me, and I just smiled, saying nothing, for what was there to say? I stayed up for hours and watched them sleep, convinced there wouldn't be another night, knowing I' d have to leave tomorrow, without saying goodbye, unable to even conjure a convincing excuse. No, I did not really deceive them, I do not think most of them were even remotely affected by my inexplicable behaviour- I'm not that important, after all.

Thus, it is not guilt that makes me talk this way; it is nostalgia mixed with grief and a hint of regret, for the wasted moments more than anything else. Wasted, because we then had to deny them, to cover them with weak arguments and misleading alibis, so that we wouldn't have to recall the broken promises, the abandoned plans, the shared illusions; so that we wouldn't need to remember that this is meant to happen again and again and again, and there is nothing we can do about it except maybe be more honest next time and braver, too.