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When life became a game of waiting to have you. Was it when there were 1,359 kilometers between us and you were a phone call away. When was it that the distance started growing too heavy. When was it that I stopped wanting to stay up till the sunrise with you. Was it when summer was riding high and there were people to see and places to be. Was it when you started feeling like I was leaving you behind. Was it the smaller aggressions. The change in tone. Not listening to songs shared.
When did life become a game of waiting to have you. Was it when I saw you again and the coldness chilled me to my bones. Was it when those 1,359 kilometers turned into less than one. When you were sitting in the room next to me. When you couldn't focus because I was trying not to look at you and noticed it. Was it when we tried to mend things. When you were just an arm's length away, was it when I didn't try to close the distance.
When did life become a game of waiting to have you. When you saw me with someone else. When I was involved in a love too long and too exhausting to talk of now. When you had to find out from rumors and gossip. When I opened the distance again and stopped smiling in the hallway, gave you the coldest of shoulders. When I always cared. When you were late and I asked you if you were coming. When I was the only one to ask questions in a silent room, when I was the silent supporter whenever it felt like you had no one.
Was it when I walked across your work and made you feel alone. When I showed off my love to everyone and left you in the cold. Dancing with someone else right in front of you. Was it when you had to mute me on social media, did you ever wish you could mute me in person. Was it when, was it when I couldn't stop thinking of you so I wrote you a letter. What did you think of when you read it. Were you angry or were you hurt or was there a small part of you that was happy about me reaching out.
When was it that life became a game of waiting to have you. When did I start thinking of you in each song that I heard and playlist that I made, in every poem that I read. Was it when I thought you would still be my friend. Was it when that hope ran out and coldness took its place. Was it when I thought I would never see you again, and you became nothing but an afterthought.
Was it when I kept waiting for a message on my birthday, and jumped at it when it was a day late. Was it finally when I thought I had left him. Was it when you thought it too. Was it when you reached out again. Was it when I shut you down again. Was it when you became enamored with her and her proximity to you and her words and her eyes and her warmth and her body and her mind and her drive and her. And her. Was it when you became enamored with her when I thought you were still enamored with us. Was it when she called me up and I told her you were a great person and I wish you two the best. Was it then that I became obsessed with the idea of us one day belonging with each other.
When I am done with him. When you are done with her. When we are close. When we are closer. There was distance and there were people between us, but for a brief period there was neither. I made no move to close it and I don't know what I was thinking. I was twenty-two and a mess then. You were twenty-two and still reeling from everything I had put you through, I don't know if I am making this out to be more than it was in my head, I don't know if I am now romanticising it, but it does feel like now life has become a game.
Of waiting.
To see what happens.
My breath catches because I know it will take time. For me to leave him. I love him still. Despite this waiting. I don't know what it is, it's complicated. It will take time for you to be done with her. She is a replica of me. She is smaller and closer to you than I am, but she is the same; the same mind, the same friends, the same habits. I see what you see in her, because it is what I see in the mirror. But she is a replica, she isn't the original and she never was. She cannot do to you what I can, but she can move in closer. And she can kiss you, and intertwine her body with yours and stay with you till the morning-- in person. She can be the next best thing to pass the time until you realise it was me you were searching for in those big brown eyes. And me that you never could find when she held your hand but failed to laugh at the jokes only you and I know, failed to make you smile in the way I could.
And maybe then. This game of waiting will come to an end, and we will both choose to close the distance between us and call this space our own. Maybe we will talk about the years of pining and the people we had instead and it could be a bittersweet thing. Or maybe I'm being stupid and there is nothing here, the magic is just in my memories and I love stories so much I decided to write my life into one.
I don't know when this game of waiting began. I don't know when it's going to end. But while it lasts. while it lasts, I suppose we just keep playing.
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