It seems like we have reached the end of our journey, so soon yet so late. We have made it through a lot: pressure, mockery and criticism. A remarkable journey, I say. I am very proud of what we share. And yes, I admit, at times I was very ashamed to call you my own. How was I supposed to own you though, tell me? How was I supposed to scream it to the world and wait for the judgements that would obviously follow?

It was not all that bad, I promise. You gave me status, dignity and a sense of pride. I had that single special trait because of our friendship. I was a model and the world was my run-way, because of you. It was an honour being your acquaintance, really. Religion accepted you wholeheartedly, the elderly encouraged me to embrace you, my family was just amazed and proud that I kept our friendship strong for such a long time. I walked with pride, judging others, I was self-righteous.

You’ve been in my life, long before I could even acknowledge your existence. We were budding buddies; you were by my side, protecting me from the ills of this world. You knew that a time would come where we would have to part ways, yet you made it so difficult for me to let go. “Let go” they would say, yet it was just impossible, or was it me? Was I the one making a fuss over such small a thing, but you were never small, you were a big deal to me.

They say with growth comes change. Change pushes us out of our comfort zones, our safe spaces. We reached that stage, the scary big bad “change”. The time had come for us to decide on our friendship, do we continue or call it quits. Do we hold on to the beauty we have created or just give it all up because of society’s messed up standards? Did we run this marathon only to give up just before reaching the finish line? Is there even a finish line, why are we in this race? Why are we battling so much because of a group of people who decided to create a manual of how to live our lives? Is there even a manual? Is conforming part of following the instruction?

In as much as I blamed everyone, pointed fingers and despised you, I had to face the music. I had to get to a decision, let people dictate my life or I fight for our love? I had to decide what I really, like really wanted, fear to dictate my every decision, allow myself to miss out on the opportunity to escape the comfort zone?

The decision haunted me for weeks, you crept into my dreams. A single day wouldn’t pass without me thinking, thinking of what might become of me. Should I let you go? Would I still be known as that “innocent” young girl, or would I be like the rest? Judgement, would I even be able to handle it? I was afraid of the unknown really, afraid of not living up to people’s expectations. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the mirror again.

All it took was one second, one moment, one look and all was lost. Our friendship was no more. The very bond I fought so hard to protect was gone in a split second. It was painful, literally. I had imagined it to be an emotional turmoil, but the physical pain took the lead. I had many thoughts, regrets maybe, a sense of accomplishment, for a second there I forgot about your existence.

Then a few minutes later, I remembered you. You just became a distant memory, we were no longer friends. I had lost you forever, all because of five minutes’ intercourse. I was no longer pure. I was like the other girls, unsealed.


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