[ RF ] `` No , I 'm sorry . I 'm done . I ca n't , not anymore . ''

I have always been one for nostalgia, but the problem with longing for the past is that is consumes you. Maybe it ’ s human nature to want the things you can ’ t have. And it is this very reason why I can no longer look back because if I do, I might just disappear along with these memories of mine. 
 
 Your absence haunts me. 
 
 The streets are cold and wet as my bike skids across the pavement. It ’ s dark outside and the city lights are twinkling from behind me. I don ’ t know where I ’ m going. I don ’ t care either. I just need for you to stop haunting my existence and the only way I know how to do so is to run away. 
 
 I reach up to pull my beanie down. I can feel the harsh winter cold brushing up against my face. It ’ s not as harsh as the words you had said to me. I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I try to hold them back as I harden my grip on the handles. Pedal faster, I tell myself. 
 
 I remember it all too well. We were sitting on your bed as I lay on your lap. Flightless bird by Iron and Wine was playing in the background. The fairy lights were dimly lit across the windowsill. It was a peaceful night. 
 
 And then I broke the silence. I could feel a lump in my throat as I tried to speak. Just get it out, I tell myself. 
 
 “ M, ” I managed to say. “ It ’ s never going to happen, is it? ” 
 
 She remained silent. I kept my head down because I was afraid to look at her. Tears were welling up in my eyes. The silence was painful. I could feel my chest tightening up. Something inside of me hurts but I don ’ t know why. I braced myself for your answer, the words that were once unspoken between us. 
 
 “ I ’ m sorry, ” she said softly. I could hear the guilt in her voice. “ I can ’ t be who you want me to be. ” 
 
 “ Okay, ” I managed to say in between sobs. I could feel myself sobbing hard. “ I just needed to hear that so I could stop lying to myself. ” 
 
 I buried my face into her lap. I can feel her hand resting at the back of my neck. She let me cry for a bit. 
 
 “ Hey, ” she said. “ Come here. ” 
 
 She wrapped her arms around me like she always does. I cry softly in her arms. She tells me a lot of things. That she can ’ t return my feelings back. That she wants our friendship to last. That she ’ s sorry it has to be this way. 
 
 A bump in the road jolts me back to reality as I lose control of the bicycle. The memory fades away from my mind. I try to steer the bicycle away from the street lamp. The wheels screech against the cement as I try my best to brake. I fall hard onto the ground as I hear the bicycle crashing into the lamp. Rolling over my back, I face up and groan. And I should pick myself up but I don ’ t want to. 
 
 I think about everything that has happened since then. How our friendship had crashed and burned. How my feelings for you tore me up inside. How it killed you to see me fall harder for you. All the ugly arguments we had, the distance, the harsh words, the crying and the falling out. I remember the pained expression on your face as you told me we had to stop this. Where should we go from here, you had asked. I remember asking you not to go away. You had whispered back that you didn ’ t want to leave, and that you ask of me to not push you away. 
 
 Unrequited love is miserable. It ’ s a constant longing for somebody you know you can ’ t have. It ’ s sitting next to the person that means the world to you, only to realize they can never return those feelings back. It ’ s looking at her and smiling when deep inside you are hiding your tears. It ’ s caring for somebody unconditionally because you just want to give her what you can, even if a one way street. It ’ s an inherent sadness that can ’ t be nursed. It ’ s looking for an answer that doesn ’ t exist. It ’ s all these feelings seeded deeply inside you and you try to get the words out but you can ’ t. 
 
 It ’ s a bad case of nostalgia for a person that wasn ’ t meant for you. 
 
 That night, we were sitting on your bed again. I had cried because I couldn ’ t get over you. You were upset that we were going nowhere. I remember begging you to let me keep trying and you yelled that you were tired of hurting me. I looked up at you. I saw the way your eyes fell, the distance in your words and how you turned your body slightly away from me. And I kept looking on, hoping and praying that you ’ d give me another chance. 
 
 This was what you had said. 
 
 “ No, I ’ m sorry. I am done. ” You paused. And then you continued. “ I can ’ t, not anymore. ” 
 
 The memory fades away again, far into the distant past. I can feel the tears in my eyes again. I want to cry but I can ’ t. There ’ s nothing left in me. I am defeated. I pick myself up from the ground and reach for my bicycle. Hoisting myself up, I balance my weight and push the pedals forward. 
 
 I think about your words as my bicycle trails down the slope of the street. I ponder about all the things we could have been and all the things we once were. I don ’ t know where I ’ m going, but I know it ’ s a place far away from you. I think about how we ’ re strangers now, how I can ’ t be part of your life anymore. 
 
 And I know life goes on, people alwas come and they go. But I just really want you to know that even when the world is moving forward and time is erasing the past slowly, that I ’ ll always be looking behind my shoulder. 
 
 That ’ s where you ’ ll remain, trapped inside my memories and tucked away into the unforgettable past. 

