(4 days ago)

It was midnight, and we were eating Chinese food in a restaurant at QC. I was treating you because I just
asked you for a favor and you, very graciously, obliged. Perhaps it was the late hour, but we were speaking
in an almost whisper.

“I just feel lost and,” you said. “That’s what I feel. I don’t know how to describe it. I’m just lost.”

And you talked about your job. And your friends. And you said that when you were still in love, you didn’t
feel this thing. But the dissolution of the relationship made the lack in your life more acute.

“It’s frustrating. I don’t know how to deal with it.”


(2 years ago)

Another friend. We were chatting over the net. She’d been accepted for a master’s program overseas, under a
very prestigious scholarship. She just broke up with her boyfriend. She told the latter she couldn’t promise
monogamy, and the boyfriend would accept nothing less. She was alone, in a foreign place, and she just
learned that her ex had no trouble finding a replacement for her. She said (rather, implied) that she found
solace and comfort in the countless glasses of red wine she was consuming; the type that came in cheap
boxes. She wanted to go home, but she couldn’t. There was regret, and loss. Her need for a connection felt
almost desperate.

And I imagined her, this soul, hunched over a keyboard, in the soft light of a computer monitor, looking for
meaning in a life with a future that used to be so bright she couldn’t see, now foggy and seemingly


(1 year ago)

Another friend. She was across the table, talking about a job that was her life. And a boss who told her
that she wasn’t doing enough. The frustration was etched in every word that she spoke, and she found herself
shedding tears she didn’t want me to see. I held her hand, and told her this is just one day, in a life that
has proven itself, time and again, more than capable of achieving the almost impossible.

“You are special,” I told her. “And you know that. There is no need for this.”

(4 months ago)

We were at a coffee shop in QC, and you asked me why I’ve been seeing you so frequently lately. I couldn’t
tell you, because I didn’t know myself. But you were an anchor in a time when everything felt so, transient.

Instead I said, “I missed you. And we’ve always had a connection. It doesn’t happen to me often, so you’ll
have to forgive me if I tend to abuse the few friendships I’ve managed to cultivate.”

And you agreed. And you never learned how much that meant to me


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