Confession

With Love, Goodbye

For the memories, because they will always be with me.

   ***

   "Life is made of cycles, old ones end and new ones begin, people come and go, that's how the world works" - authorial, but like all kinds of art, it was inspired by something.

   ***

   I remember when I was little, thinking that my friends and I would be together forever, we would share a mansion and go to college in the same place.

   Today I know that's not how things work, some people leave, others stay with us, and in the end, only memories remain.

   Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had fought, if I hadn't just let some go.

   Would things be better?

   I wonder if they left, or I left.

   In the end, does it really matter?

   It's not like these people are dead. But I can no longer just call them and tell them how my day was, talk about the Powerpuff Girls or Harry Potter, log into roblox and play for hours on end.

   It hurts to see them sitting on the other side of the room and not be able to just throw a note and talk to them through "paper whatsapp". It hurts that our conversations are all about school, and that we don't know more about everything in each other's lives.

   But if I could go back and save old friendships, would I want to? Would it be the right thing to do? Would things be better?

   Sometimes I wish to go back to the past, before that cursed virus impregnated the earth. Back to when things were simpler. Back to when I could be a fairy if I wanted to. Back to the time when friends and I made up the best stories.

   Back to when the people who left were still there. When I would play Barbie with my best friend, pretending the dolls were our favorite heroines - the Powerpuff Girls, I think that's where my passion for fanfiction came from - and we'd talk about everyone in our class before bed.

   Back to when everything was easier.

   But at the same time... I don't think I would change everything that happened, I don't think I would try to keep those people with me.

   I'm someone other than the girl who let them go.

   A lot has changed.

   The people who left no longer exist, now they are someone else.

   Is this someone else someone I would want to be as close to as before? Could it be that the other me - the me of today - is someone they would have the same friendship with?

   I don't know anymore.

   Is fighting for someone who once was worth anything?

   Do I really need to hold on to happy memories with these people?

   Will they ever come back?

   Do I want them to come back?

   Do I want everything to be like before?

   I think that even though it was painful, even though a part of me left with these people, the only thing I wish I could say was goodbye.

   And since I can't say this in person, or go back to the past to say goodbye, I write this letter:

   For all the living who left.

   I hope you remember me, even if you don't, know that I remember you.

   I hope that I have made a difference in your lives and that I am part of your happy memories. Even if I didn't make any changes, or I'm not part of any happy memories, know that you are present in mine. And they helped me be who I am.

   I hope that in our memories, our past selves are still together, being friends.

   I hope that one day I don't look at you anymore and feel hurt and longing for you gone, but gratitude for the good times.

   Maybe someday, we'll meet again, and go back to being what we were.

   Maybe not.

   Even if we're never the same as before, even if it's all over, even if we couldn't say goodbye, you're still with me.

   They always will be.

   Thank you to the living who left, for the memories.

   With love, goodbye.

   ***

   Okay, okay, okay. Here is my SECOND translated text!!! I'm very happy to be able to do this :).

   This text has a lot of me in it, it's something I'd like to say to the people who left, even if it's not that many people.

   I don't think it's a sad text, it's a text about nostalgia, at least that's what I think, but an interesting thing about art is that everyone feels something.

   Yes, I think words are art.

   Well, I hope you liked it. This text (short story, chronicle I don't know), was also a confession, in a way.
And, for last, If you notice any error, please tell me.

Thanks for Reading this far! Bye! See You next!

   🍫 > For you!