Life is short compared to the timelapse of the universe. There is only so much a person can do in their life and chances are probably won't have enough time to accomplish everything he or she desires. On the other hand, there are many other aspects of life that can never be completed. For example, a person can't claim that he or she "has enough friends". Friends are one aspect of life which can be seen as an lifelong accomplishment. As life progresses and more friends are bonded, most likely not all of them will manage to stay in the person's life. As many would know the famous saying "People come and go", it really is true that not everyone would end up staying in your life.
There is also another saying, and that is:
"What's lost can't be recovered, who's gone can't be reunited"
The first half of this line is probably known by many people. The second half is my little words of wisdom that adds on, or specifies the first half-- applying the concept to friends instead of objects. Since this is my first publishment in Wattpad, I will give a little introduction of myself in here, as it would be highly related to the content of the story (although I won't be using my own name in it, so it's up to you to figure out who's me =D).
***This part would be briefly mentioned in the story, so if you want you can skip it***
Twelve years ago, I was a little kid in Malaysia who was always bullied and never symphatized. Just when I would think that no one in this world would ever reach their hands out and say "do you need a hand?", it happened. It was a friend that had accomplished more than the roles of a friend. Ten years ago, my mother came back from New York, to pick me up and bring me to America. To myself, it was a bittersweet moment. Bitter in the fact that I would have to depart from the place I've stayed for my whole life thus far, but sweet in the fact that my life could be turned to a better side. By then, the first question that popped up was...
What happens to my friends? Will they come with me? Will I ever see them again?
That was in the mind of a little eight years old. Of course during eight years old no one would be thinking stuff like "friends that are separated can't be reunited". Unable to think deeply about it, I just left everyone behind, and came with my mother to the States-- a whole new environment where I knew nobody and nobody knew me.
Incase you don't know where this story is heading toward... here's a little lingering question to keep your mind toward the direction of this story:
If I left, will I ever see the person that reached her hands out for me when I needed help again?
