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It is a fact of life that nothing lasts forever. You might want something to last forever, but it won't, because such is the fact of life.
Did it ever happen to you that on a non-busy day you sat in your room alone, your thoughts wandering - wondering - how is that person doing?
That person, who you used to be best friends with, until you weren't. That person, or, these persons.
You may have great friends now, but inevitably, at some random times, you will glance into that mirror of time, where your past is.
You're lucky if you smile looking into that mirror. Good memories, firmly categorized as _memories_.
If you're not that lucky, regret may kick in. Something you should have never said to a friend. Something you should have never done to them.
There may be a person who could have still been your friend, if only. There may be a person who you would want to still be your friend, only they don't want that anymore.
If you're not that lucky, you may come to realize that you should have been a better friend and a better person all along. You may come to realize that you didn't know how important it was to appreciate what you've once had. To cherish it, to maintain it, to pay attention. To care.
You touch that mirror, hoping that - like some kind of a magic portal - it will let your fingers soak in your past, if only briefly. You might want to enter the portal and try to mend what was done. But the mirror is solid, and you can only look.
And if you're in a particularily nostalgic mood, you may whisper to these - now mere visions - from your past. I'm sorry that I wasn't there when you needed me the most. I'm sorry that I didn't know how crucial a part of my life you were until you moved. I'm sorry that I couldn't realize that you want to move on. For these invasive messages, for almost stalking you, I'm sorry.
I'm half-glad none of you will read this post and know it's me.
...What is your present today will one day be in the mirrors of your past. Are you doing enough to be able to smile looking into it once it's forever there? Am I sure I will not regret?
Why am I writing this?
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Keith Aprilnight (aprilnightk@tilde.team)