She was gone from Facebook. It was just like that. Access to the five years he spent with her were gone. He craved it. It would be enough just to see the 'Spain 2007' photo album, or 'New Years Eve 2009', but he was locked out. And she didn't update her Twitter anymore.
She was happy at first. She wanted him gone. But after a while she desperately needed to know the simplest of things: is he okay? Is he alive and breathing? He didn't update his Flickr account anymore. Did he stop his photography after she left? His last Twitter message from two months ago read: "Something new or anything" and she didn't know what it meant.
497 emails between them. He couldn't stop himself from reading them again and again. When he found love with her, the words flowed. He dropped out of studying fiction writing because he had nothing to say, but not when he emailed her, he shared his whole life; and she wrote wildly creative replies; so personal, so beautiful.
She wished she hadn't deleted the emails. She just wanted to touch their history, just reach into it. She was with someone else now and the photo albums told a different story, but she couldn't help but wonder where he was, and whether he'd found love. She unblocked him from Facebook.
He'd searched for her name like a million times before, but this time it showed up. He didn't know whether or not he should message her, but he noticed her lack of privacy settings and couldn't resist taking a closer look. He went straight to 'Spain 2007', but it wasn't there. Instead there was 'New York 2011' with some other guy. He blocked her this time and vowed never to go near her again.
She found out he'd started a blog about gaming. She read reviews of the latest games, hoping to read something between the lines, but it wasn't to be. And he wasn't searchable on Facebook anymore. She tweeted him "hope you're ok xx" and hoped for something, anything.
He wrote "fine" and then blocked her.
She wondered when he became such an asshole.
And he wondered why it hurt so much.
And she wasted a whole weekend listening to love songs on YouTube.
And he killed a few hundred people on Modern Warfare 3
And it was purely by chance, that sunny afternoon, when they crossed paths at the train station. He took out his headphones. She looked up from her Kindle.
The End.
She was happy at first. She wanted him gone. But after a while she desperately needed to know the simplest of things: is he okay? Is he alive and breathing? He didn't update his Flickr account anymore. Did he stop his photography after she left? His last Twitter message from two months ago read: "Something new or anything" and she didn't know what it meant.
497 emails between them. He couldn't stop himself from reading them again and again. When he found love with her, the words flowed. He dropped out of studying fiction writing because he had nothing to say, but not when he emailed her, he shared his whole life; and she wrote wildly creative replies; so personal, so beautiful.
She wished she hadn't deleted the emails. She just wanted to touch their history, just reach into it. She was with someone else now and the photo albums told a different story, but she couldn't help but wonder where he was, and whether he'd found love. She unblocked him from Facebook.
He'd searched for her name like a million times before, but this time it showed up. He didn't know whether or not he should message her, but he noticed her lack of privacy settings and couldn't resist taking a closer look. He went straight to 'Spain 2007', but it wasn't there. Instead there was 'New York 2011' with some other guy. He blocked her this time and vowed never to go near her again.
She found out he'd started a blog about gaming. She read reviews of the latest games, hoping to read something between the lines, but it wasn't to be. And he wasn't searchable on Facebook anymore. She tweeted him "hope you're ok xx" and hoped for something, anything.
He wrote "fine" and then blocked her.
She wondered when he became such an asshole.
And he wondered why it hurt so much.
And she wasted a whole weekend listening to love songs on YouTube.
And he killed a few hundred people on Modern Warfare 3
And it was purely by chance, that sunny afternoon, when they crossed paths at the train station. He took out his headphones. She looked up from her Kindle.
The End.
i really enjoyed that.
ReplyDeleteGood story. Sad.
ReplyDeleteI have a couple of friends who recently broke up, and they're finding that technology makes it much more difficult. They keep adding one another on Facebook, thinking they're ready to be friends, but the jealousy is too muich for them. So they end up blocking one another for a week again. Then the cycle starts all over.
It's pretty difficult to get someone completely out of your life these days. I have someone I'd like to block from Twitter and FB, but they read my blog, so I won't do it. I'm always reachable. It's awful.
Oh my god this is so beautiful.. I dont know why i found it beautiful though it's supposed to be sad... i almost cried. really. This is beautifully written..
ReplyDeleteGreat writing- the kind I like.
ReplyDeleteI can completely relate to this, so true.
ReplyDeleteI love your blog. You inspire me and keep me grounded. Like, When I feel like I have no reason to write....no chance to make it I come here.
ReplyDeleteWhen I have a little success and start to feel like I'm better than I am I also come here to let myself know that I have a long way to go. If I ever succeed it will be largely because of the words you put on these pages.
This post right here gave me goosebumps because it made me feel like I was one of the people you were talking about....I cant wait for the day that I can make someone feel the same thing with my words.
This is increble writing, i hope to keep up with it
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful and heartbreaking story at the same time. Perfectly written.
ReplyDeletethis is pretty sad but yet again very relateable..sometimes im glad tht i can find out stuff abt someone without actually having to talk to them,just the knowledge of them being alright is enough for me.
ReplyDeleteThis story made my heart ache. Lost love and history. Did they speak at the station?
ReplyDelete