i think i pulled away too much...

I remember those college days like they were yesterday. The times I used to rush to meet my friends. The times I used to leave the house an hour before my class started just because I wanted to hang out more. The times when daily texts were the usual.

I was part of a group.

A big one.

And I loved it.

I loved every bit about it.

The laughs that filled my heart with joy. The corner of the SkyBox which we claimed to be ours. The teasing comments and inside jokes. The days when we used to huddle up together with spoons in our hands and share biryani. Even the times we used to giggle and laugh when half the group would run away because a kitten showed up. I miss those videos I get during class on the random things everyone was doing. Those times when we would randomly point at someone and say, “TREAT US!”

I loved it.

God, I absolutely loved it.

And then second year happened. We became seniors. Things changed. our seniors left and I realised that they were the glue that stuck us together. We drifted apart, forming clusters of our own and it felt…weird.

We became competitive. Fights broke out. Animosity grew. And what was once a family turned into the shattered remains of a thousand misunderstandings.

It was around the second half of that year where I became quiet. More reserved. I practically shoved everyone out and cemented my walls into perfection.

I became hesitant to meet the friends I rushed to meet a year ago. I started coming 5 minutes before my class started or some days I’d come right on time.

Why?

I don’t know…I just felt I needed to get away. I felt better when strangers were around. It was weird. But oddly comforting.

I felt my heart tearing up. My peace or friendship. It was an impossible choice. I wanted to stay…but I couldn’t bear the embarrassment of making the same mistake twice. I felt fear rising in my throat drowning me in my thoughts as I wondered: “Should I even be here?” “I’m not like them.” “God, it’s so awkward.”

So I pushed them away. I chose my peace over everything else. The same thing happened in school and I refused to make the same mistake twice.

I ran away like a coward.

I ran away so far that simply saying ‘Hi’ became a question of ‘what if?’

And sometimes I think…maybe I ran away too far that I became unreachable everywhere.

I miss having a group. I miss those daily texts. I miss those birthday calls. Scratch that, even the normal calls where we laughed till two in the morning.

I miss it.

I miss the excitement of scanning my card and immediately calling my friends to ask them where they were. I miss the times where I could finally call a place my second home.

God, I miss it so damn much.

Now, my phone has gone silent. It’s been a couple years since then, and my phone resembles the dead. The only time it buzzes is with a Substack notification. And believe me when I say this, I love that. But part of me craves the connection I had before it all went quiet.

I still don’t know if that was the best decision I could’ve made. I still don’t know if just saying what was on my mind would fix it. I still don’t know what went wrong. And I don’t think I ever will.

Because the bridge has been long burned and only I stand on its ashes staring at what once used to be.

A family.

A home.

A warm mug of your comfort drink that just never grew cold.

It was perfect.

It felt perfect.

But that’s all it was.

Something in the past. Something I will never forget.

I still talk about it on some days. I still smile at the pictures I refuse to let go. And I don’t think that’s going to stop.

I will always pick my college years to be the best time of my life, even though it scarred my heart. A faded one now. But nevertheless, a scar.

And funny enough, it’s a scar I don’t regret having. As I hold it with a heavy heart but with a smile playing on my lips. I close my eyes and pray that every one of them do well in life, reach where they want to and become the best versions of themselves.

There will always be a part of me that will love them. A part that will think about them.

And sometimes I hope that we could’ve had one more day together before everything fell apart.

I can always pretend and act that it’s fine and it’s not that big of a deal but I mean…I know I’m lying on some days.

And it’s funny because some days I don’t miss them at all. Like I geniunely don’t remember them. And then all of a sudden I’ll have this moment where I’m talking and I’ll remember the college days and be like ‘damn…that happened.’

I’ll be honest. It doesn’t hurt anymore. Maybe it did years ago, but now it’s just a memory I smile at.

And that’s…well that’s all there is.