Out of all the words in the human language, I believe that the most painful one to say, or hear, is "goodbye."
Those were the two words I heard from you that I wish you never said. It's been years since we first met. I'm starting to think that I've already lost count.
Years of memories.
Years of hardships.
Years of pain.
Years of being with you.
I still remember how it all started. This wild and crazy ride with you, that is. We were both young back then. Still full of hopes and dreams. We met in a playground near our school.
"Can you push me?" you called to me while you sat on the swing. I was in the middle of building a sand castle. I looked around, and it didn't seem like you were asking anyone else. You were alone, and so was I. It was around noon, I think. All the other kids went home to have lunch, while we were still waiting for our parents.
"Didn't you come here with your friends?" I asked, curious as to why you were alone. "I don't have that many friends," you replied, much to my surprise, "My parents brought me here so that I wouldn't bother them when they fixed the house. We just moved in," you continued, catching my attention.
I came over and gave you a slight push. I wasn't sure what to think of it. My parents told me not to talk to strangers. "Emma." "What?" I asked, being caught off guard again. "My name is Emma," you answered, "What's yours?" It still confuses me how you talked to me so easily. But then again, we were both children back then. "Michael. It's Micheal."