When I sit alone in the middle of the night, I try to find you in the dark. 

“Happiness is a pop song. Sadness is a poem.” I had often wondered what it means to be sad. It was long before I met her. I had fallen in love a fair number of times before, and I would wonder each time things ended, if this was what it meant to be a sad person – to miss somebody sometimes for the times spent together and not having them to talk with, like you used to.
It only took me a while to forget people. I had long realized the transient nature of life. If somebody wanted to leave, there is little you can do to make them stay. I had come to this realization that you would always have a few people, if not some, who would be willing to drop by at 3 in the night when you were low.
But something changed.
I remember the first time you mailed me a recording of your song. It had been a favorite long before I heard you sing it. I remember humming to the tunes of your voice late into that night, telling you how I had heard it a thousand times already and how I could continue to, for a thousand more.
It only feels like last night, when you told me how you were willing to take a leap of faith, and that it had only been a few days talking to me but you felt something – a connection so deep that you had felt with nobody before. I remember laughing when you told me how I would have to write you an erotica each weekend and that you would return the favor with a song that I loved.
I remember how, in the initial stage, I had had this feeling that things would not work out and you had cried – you had cried and convinced me about how you wanted me to hold on, and never let go.
And months later, when you were the one who decided to call it quits, I held on. I did not let go of the feelings even when you had long decided to leave.
It has been a while and I haven’t been able to forget. When I sit alone in the middle of the night, listening to the silence, I try to find you in the dark. I know that there still are people willing to help, but I know that they can’t.   I had often wondered what sadness feels like. I do, now. It feels like you.

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