“Life is about who you live it with. If you meet the right companion, every destination will be bearable, even hell.”
That’s what a 64 years old street hawker told me.
The words stabbed me right in the chest.
Because through tears and shouting rage, you told me hell was what we had.
Love was dead. You were exhausted, and I was too difficult.
I vividly remember that night. It was 10 p.m, and you left.
I thought by midnight you’d call and ask me to pick you up.
But it never came.
Last night, it seemed like I listened to the old man religiously, yet I found myself crawling back into the stack of memories.
Am I, to you, not a worthy companion, even for the so-called hell?
That you left, even after promising you’d take care of me by our second meeting?
NAME : t.nc
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