Last Goodbye?


Even on the days that i am not near, I am here.

Dear Mori,

My Mori,

I tried writing you an article in third person. You are far too personal to be addressed anonymously. So I write a letter to you.

We spent 12 years being told to get the best grades possible. “Ministry is the most important exam of your life” “Every job you apply to will ask for your Matric results” “Get into as much extracurricular activities as you can”

We were told that we had to achieve, achieve and achieve or we would fail life. It’s a bit cruel, don’t you think? To make children feel the weight of the decades to come without ever telling the why.

Here’s what I learned. School wasn’t about the education, the grades, or even achievements. School is about that one girl; the girl that pops out of nowhere on a random day and tangles her soul with yours, the girl that you build the foundation of your sense of self with. The girl, without whom, you wouldn’t be who you are today. To me, Mori, you’re her.

We had plans; of being neighbors, roommates, cooking together and many more. You drew. I wrote. Then you wrote, and I drew. We spent days dreaming and working so very hard to achieve them at an age impressively young. What we were to do with our remaining years? I don’t know.

It’s a friendship that lasted a decade and counting. A decade!

People search their whole lives looking for their other half. The world is filled with misunderstood people scattered way too dispersed. How lucky am I to have found you? Beyond understanding, to have someone know the deep workings of your brain is truly a gift. One I am fortunate to have.

Our 20s was completely different from what we had envisioned. Barely into our first year and the plot-twists keep hitting us by the minute. The ground we once thought stable enough to build a life on crumbles with every step. Life is hard and very confusing. We feel stuck but also like we are going a few hundred miles per hour. It’s a car with no breaks.

But you visited. And under the faded stars on the rooftop, we had a moment to take a breath. We laughed. I laughed. All the thoughts and the stress left my head for the night. All was good. I was laughing again.

We no longer wear the same uniform and sit together all day talking about nothing in particular. How have we never run out of things to talk about? We are now in different time zones. We go months without talking and we have branched further apart. You have your people and I have mine. We are exploring different worlds. It’s exciting, but at times scary and even lonely. We don’t always reach out or open up and that’s okay.

It’s not just Mori and Mona anymore. It’s Mona’s world and Mori’s world. You could be light years away, but when it’s dark, you shine bright in the distance like a twinkling star. I know you’re there. You know I’m here. And for this decade, for the battles that we fight on our own, that shall suffice.

I’ll see you again Mori.

Someday, somehow

And if I don’t, if we by chance have run our luck by finding each other in our youth and this was the last goodbye, then stay well my friend. Achieve all that is meant for you and live a life filled with all the laughter that you have drawn on my face.


A distant star

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