A deal?

The devil came to me in a dream,

and made a deal.

He said,

“I’ll give you all the riches, dreams, and aspirations you want.

But you will forget ___ and you will be strangers”

I sat there in the void, pondering their suggestion.

Strangers

The word sat vulgarly in my mouth, like it didn't belong. The word seemed obsurd.

Strangers?

Would I forget the way they walked? The way they talked? The way they tussle their hair back when they're stressed, or lost in thought? Would I forget the loud bus rides I took, looking out the window hoping I would see them as I passed by?

But then again, even now we seem like strangers. The sight of you sends me into endless boughts of anxiety, wondering what I did wrong and how I could never fix it. You would never let me fix it. The thing I didn't know was wrong. Seeing them in the grocery store forcing me to sprint as far away as possible so they won't see me weak. Won't see what they've done to me.

Strangers. Thinking about all the times I've cried over them. Thinking about the warmth I felt when I was near them. Thinking about the sudden cold they had. Knowing we would never be the same.

Strangers. The thought almost became appealing. All the hurt and pain would go away. I wouldn't have to remember. I wouldn't have to look back. I wouldn't have to feel anything towards them.

But.

Something tells me that even if we became strangers, we would find one another again. That we would go through the same things, that we would feel the same as we did and fall as hard as we could. Despite all the riches in the world,

I can never let go of you.

No matter how hard I dream to.