People Come and People Go
Why does it hurt so bad? One day, you meet someone, and the connection is effortless. The laughter, the late-night conversations, the way your spirits seem to dance in rhythm — it all feels like the beginning of something that will last. The sparks fly, and for a moment, you allow yourself to believe in the fantasy of forever. But then, reality settles in. The more you learn about each other, the more the edges fray. The more the illusion unravels. What once felt like a warm embrace starts to feel like a mirror, exposing parts of yourself you’d rather not confront.
I’ve come to see people as fleeting chapters — year fillers that pass through in one-to-two-month intervals. Some vanish without a word, their presence evaporating like morning mist. Others grow distant, their replies shortening until silence takes over completely. And sometimes, the unraveling is slow and painful, a gradual erosion of something that once felt unshakable. No matter how much I try to prepare myself for it, the loss always catches me off guard, striking in the places I thought were fortified. One night, we’re baring our souls over FaceTime, unraveling family histories and cracking up over inside jokes. The next, we’re strangers, pretending not to see each other’s names light up on our screens. We open up, only to permanently shut the door.
I hate it. But I also participate in it. I, too, have come and gone. I have stepped into people’s lives like a sunrise, only to fade like an unfulfilled promise.
There was a time when we shared space, when we woke up under the same roof, brushing our teeth side by side, existing in our most unfiltered states. We celebrated our little victories and nursed each other through our failures. We did life together. And then, slowly, cracks formed. New thoughts crept in. New narratives were written. The stories we told ourselves about each other changed, shifting the foundation beneath us. Resentment grew in the spaces where understanding once lived. And before we even realized what was happening, decisions were made. Justifications were formed. Accusations were spoken. And suddenly, we weren’t living together — we were living apart, existing as memories instead of people in real time.
I suppose I was the runner. Maybe it was self-preservation. Maybe it was learned behavior. After all, I had seen people leave before me — easily, effortlessly, without remorse or explanation. I watched them disappear like it was second nature, like I was never meant to be a permanent fixture in their world to begin with. How dare they? And yet… how dare I?
I tell myself it’s not personal. People come and people go. That’s just the way life works. But deep down, no matter how much I try to accept it, it still hurts.
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