From the Past

Hey. It's you. 

You're back.

It's been a while.

How are you going? What's been happening in your life since you've been gone? Are you studying? Working now? Have you achieved what you've wanted to achieve? Have you found what you're looking for? Tell me everything, I want to know what you've been doing with yourself. 

Do you remember me? I hope so, surely you would. We were together for a while, after all. How do I look, after all these years? I'm older, I suppose. Perhaps I look small and petty to you now. Maybe I'm old, and frumpy, and you're glad I wasn't this ugly when you were around. Or maybe I've had some work done, maybe I'm looking better than ever. Maybe I look fresh, and young, revitalised, and maybe you're even a little jealous of whoever I'm with now, wishing I'd looked this good when you had me. Or do I look no different at all? Could I be just as you remember me, forever frozen in your memory? What do you see in me now? 

Does it matter? You're here now, and we can't change the past. 

Why are you here? Why did you come back? Did you miss me? Did you long to see me, to touch and smell me? Maybe I am so dear to you that you could no longer stay away, no matter the other events of your life, and you just had to see me. I think I would be flattered if that was the case. But maybe you came to gloat. Maybe you're here to show me how big and bad you are now, how distinguished and larger than life? Am I to cling to your knee and suck up stray scraps of reflected glory? Am I so small to you now? Or perhaps you came back out of some sense of duty, and you really don't want to be here at all, so everything you do or say is tinged with sullen resentment. Did your friends tell you about me? Did they say I needed you, and you should visit, even if you don't like it? 

Does it matter? You're back now, for a time.

Are you here to stay? Are you giving me a second chance, a shot at something new? We could try again, make something beautiful of us this time. Something more beautiful than before, perhaps. Or maybe it is I that is letting you in, and you are the one twisting your cap in your hands. You'll try harder if this is the case, no doubt. More likely this is just a rare visit. Not many return to me, after all. You won't stay, and pretty soon I'll be grooming someone else, looking for someone else. 

Does it matter? There are always others.

Who were we to each other, all those years ago? I've had so many, it can be hard to remember. Were you one of the special ones? Perhaps I piled you with with gifts and honours, perhaps I slaved to give you the very best of myself and make sure you had everything you needed. Perhaps we loved each other, and you cried when you had to leave. Or perhaps you were different, a wild one, one that I could not control nor fix. Did you break me? Did I give up to soon, and send you away rather than trying a bit harder to make it work? But maybe it wasn't like that. Maybe you found someone else, and left me for them. It doesn't always work out, and that's okay. We're always learning. Perhaps you didn't feel strongly one way or another about me? You didn't love me enough to make it wonderful, or hate me enough to make it awful. Perhaps we both just stuck it out from habit, and we ended with no feelings at all. Or maybe you hated me, but you couldn't escape. Maybe I gave you the worst years of your life, maybe you hated me and were so relieved to finally be free of me. 

You who was once my student, who are you now? Did I prepare you well for the rigours of life, or only that I was not the one to do so?

 

Did I teach you well? Did I matter?

 

Written for a friend. Seed: High School.