Sunrises and Goodbyes

The phone’s 5:30 AM alarm played the first of its shrill tones, only for my hand to turn it off in an instant. The only sound left in the room was my chair creaking, as I finally stood up and took a break from the dim laptop screen. A more optimistic version of myself had set those alarms, hoping against all hope that I’d finally decided to sleep early. But looking out the window now, as the first rays of the sun broke through the retreating night, I had plenty of time to think about how stupid that thought was. 

I sat beneath the windowsill while letting the light flow uninterrupted into the bedroom. It hit the unkempt bed first, where the covers hadn’t taken lightly to my constant twisting and turning. The beams of yellow crawled across the bumps and hills of the sheets, before dropping and continuing its journey through the carpeted floor. In a few minutes they finally illuminated the desk, a dead laptop sitting next to the blank white paper I’d set out hours ago.

Breaks were nice. Peaceful, even. My body told me to relax, to curl up in the corner, pass out, and sleep away the first day of summer. But she was leaving today, and I knew that if I let the words go unwritten, if I didn’t make the most out of the few hours before the house woke up, then I’d never find the time for it again.

Groaning, I pulled myself upwards, putting myself down onto the worn-out seat. The pencil I’d put out with the paper stared at me mockingly, the sharpened lead a sign of procrastination. I knew that if I focused hard enough, my thoughts would flow straight through it. Problem was, I didn't even know what I was trying to say.

I stared at the pencil. My eyes narrowed in concentration. To my shock, it didn’t move an inch. Sighing, I resigned myself to writing the more traditional way.

Dear Patricia,

Too formal. I crossed it out without another thought.

hey p!

Okay, casual, friendly, that’s a good start! 

...

What now? Making sense of everything seemed impossible, so there was only one place for me to start: the start.

Remember our first date hangout? After all these months, I still can’t believe you managed to sneak out like that. Sitting on those park swings, drinking Starbucks, watching the sun go down, it felt… comfortable. and I’ll always remember that.

I had my camera with me, too. I never really did learn how to use it. But I still remember your eyes lighting up when you saw it, the way you posed in the golden hours like you’d prepared. I was so nervous I’d drank too much coffee, my hands couldn’t stop shaking. Never showed you the photos, and I held it over your head for hours before you finally let it go. Do you still remember that? Truth was, they turned out blurry and shitty, and I was too shy to ever show it. But I still have them.

You look amazing in them. Just hit me up if you ever need them :)

My hand, so used to a keyboard, wanted to pause from the rush of words flowing through it. But the floodgates had opened, and when my brain wanted to write, who was I to say no?

We both had big dreams. I used to like love like the fact that we both had high hopes of leaving this place. The thing is… you made yours happen, and left me alone here I couldn’t be prouder. Go kill it in Canada for both of us.

Remember the day you got the university email? You held it back, made me wait until the next day, just so you could say it face-to-face. You said it was more special that way. I see it a lot clearer now.

But here’s a secret for you: I already knew. From the moment you applied, I already knew you’d make it into that university. I had my first gift ready weeks ago. the second one? that took me a bit longer to make. I really do hope you liked it :>

The world outside was bright now. The sunlight warmed my hands. As I watched, the beams seemed to form memories of their own, the heat guiding my fingers onto the next sentence.

You made us walk for hours that day. You told me the mall was close; it really wasn’t. It was hot, we were sweating, and starving the whole way through. But I didn’t mind walking with you.

Did you feel that way too?

I wanted to cross it out. Keep things casual, like they should’ve always been. I couldn’t. As if my hands had finally realized the ticking clock I’d thrown on myself by delaying this letter, these words, over and over and over again.

We ended up at that park again. The sun was setting, just like the first time. Did you do that on purpose, too? Did you already know?

What gave it away? The late night talks? The shaky hands? The eyes that stared for just a second too long?

I had a whole speech planned. rehearsed, over and over in the mirror. about how I knew it could never happen. about how the distance made it impossible, how we both had to grow in our own ways. Cliché and pessimistic, but true.

But I didn’t factor in the golden hours. I didn’t think about how judging your eyes would be. I didn’t expect to stutter and skip over all my words.

Most of all, I didn’t expect you to interrupt me.

I suddenly stopped, letting the lead dig deep into the paper, as I tried desperately to bring the letter back on track. My handwriting was growing messier with each word.

I hope you stay safe out there. I wish I could’ve told you a lot of this in person, but the last few months haven’t been the… kindest? To us.

Did you ever wonder why? I did. all the time. I knew I was never gonna have you as anything more than a friend, but I didn’t expect to lose that, too.

I wish I never said I loved you. I wish we never drifted apart. I wish I still trusted you enough to ask you all this, instead of hiding it in letters I’ll never write. I wished I was ready to see you at the airport later I wish I could say goodbye and mean it, really mean it,  without having a thousandmorewordstosa-

The thin lead of the pencil broke clean off, leaving a long dark mark on the paper. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and blinked back tears that shouldn’t have been there. My hand felt cold again. I looked back, and the clouds had come in, blocking the warmth from entering my room.

Turning back around, I sighed in exhaustion. The once-clear canvas of white was now a mess of words and crossed-out mistakes, a silent cacophony of emotions desperately trying to cry out to anyone, anyone at all. But there was only me, and that would have to do. I crumpled the paper, dropping it straight into the bin below me. I pulled out another clean paper, and a sharpener for the now-blunt pencil.

The phone’s 7:00 AM alarm played the first of its shrill tones. I let it ring for a moment, before shakily turning it off. The only sound left in the room were the birds chirping outside, as I stood up and took a break from the bright white paper. Looking out the window, the light told me there were still a few more hours left before I had to say goodbye.