The past is always heavy with us, could have beens, had beens, sometimes just memory with the bias of remembrance. Memories casted in a different light, given deeper implications. Remembering the past like an ecstatic director bringing his favourite monochromatic piece to colour. Everything is brighter, louder, attractive. There are reminders everywhere, following you, haunting you.
You now listen to Cold play's Magic and you think about him, the weather that night, how his eyes lingered, his musky breath. You remember feeling liquid from his touch, legs turned to water when his lips met yours. The lyrics and the electrifying voice of Chris Martin the only battle to the silence, how you felt transported, unable to think. How you gave yourself to someone for the first time. Now you listen to Magic and remember the blinding pain when he left some months after for a lightskinned girl with a squeaky voice and the most annoying laughter.
For some it's a movie. "Mr. Bones". You remember how you and your three siblings sat on the floor too close to the television screen, laughing at the almost naked man with no idea of how things will be so different later that night. The youngest cried against your dress and you hid his face so he did not see the strangers hit your mom, again and again in the stomach. Your dad was tied up to the chair with a swollen mouth helpless. Your other two siblings were hiding in an unknown location in the house, praying not to be discovered.
Sometimes its a date. 2nd of April 2013 in the hospital that smelt of death. He had been in a coma for 2 months. Unresponsive. You had been by his bedside all that while, talking to him about everything and nothing. Sometimes just pleading with him to wake up. Telling him you forgive him, begging him to forgive you for being unreasonable, for not listening to his pleas. 2nd of April 2013 was the day his parents gave up and signed to take him off life support. You had been brave, fighting the doctors and nurses anyone who tried to come close to him to take the tube away. It's 2nd April 2018 and you're in your bed crying yourself away like you just lost him.
Sometimes it's a place that becomes a bag full of memories. The university, it had been six years since you left but you remember everything, even now, driving through the school to pick up your younger brother for the holidays. You remember the hard days, the less difficult ones, the archaic set of rules, the secrets, the insecurities, friends that were not really friends, the many empty relationships, and her. Her laughter that was everything, holding hands to sleep, staring a little too long without caring how awkward it would be if someone noticed the way you looked at her longingly. It wasn't just a friendship, it was more.
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