Just A Visitor.

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To the unknown,

Hi,

How are you? The last time I asked that, you didn’t answer. I figured that I shouldn’t have asked. But it’s polite to begin a conversation with that anyway. The first time we met we were worlds apart. You came from the upper echelon while I came from a family that had recently graduated to the lower middle class. You spoke the Queen’s language with ease. Pure eloquence. You had mastered it. I on the other hand was struggling with the correct pronunciation and an accent that never abandoned me. When I first stretched my hand to greet you, you shook it lightly and disembarked before I could establish a firm grip. That didn’t deter me. I tried being friends with you but you always pushed me away. Often I was a victim of your taunting.
As time flew by, we both grew and followed different paths. Paths that had no hope of ever intertwining at any point in life.

It’s a small world I must say.

You went to one of the most prestigious universities and studied International Relations. Life wasn’t so fair on my part but I had something to smile about. I joined the prestigious university you were in through some scholarship. To be honest, I had no idea that you had been enrolled there. Of course the rags to riches story didn’t augur well with most scholars there and they treated me as an outcast or rather an usurper. I was used to the loneliness. I had travelled long and far. I always got lost deep in the dark trying to get accepted by the society.

The second time we had a tête a tête we were both in our final year. You had noticed that my hard work and effort was finally paying off. You began showing great interest in me. You decided that I was worth of having around and the likes. In my naivety I followed a spark. A spark that led me straight to your heart. I was cautious because the oceans between us were too wide to cross. Often you wondered what your family would say when they discovered that you were seeing someone from a lower social standard.

There were bridges for us to mend. Bridges that were burnt in our earlier years. I swore to the old gods that I’d stick through it all. Things were rocky and rough when we began that journey called love. Most people frowned upon our relationship. I was threatened at times by the big boys. I saw them as mountains that we’d need to climb and overcome.

My optimistic nature didn’t deter me even when I knew things weren’t working out. I had a buffoonery vision that made me think perhaps there was light in every person no matter how corrupt their soul was. I think that was what led to our downfall.

A year later after graduating you got a job immediately, while I struggled in finding internships. The sun didn’t shine on us most of the days. They seemed dark and cold. But I understood no matter how long the winter would be, there would always be a summer spell.

In our second year after school. You called, after what had seemed an eternity of silence. During the great purge of our silent atrocities, I tried to swim against the great white sharks so that I could reach your shores and ask you what was not happening. I swam fast and hard. I got scars in the process. I had thought that perhaps all the miles I had walked and the stumbles and falls I had overcome would lead me straight to your arms. I had grown weary and desperate. Desperate to have things go back to when you recognized me as your equal.

When you called, you said that you had found someone. Someone who was supposed to marry you in a few months time. I was broken and devastated.

I wondered when the clouds broke their water and beat me.

Years passed by. I got a good top spot position. I got married to a beautiful woman, and she bore me gorgeous kids. I came to find out through a certain far flung mutual friend that you were hospitalized and your condition was getting worse day by the day. They said you needed a bone marrow transplant and that they hadn’t found a compatible donor. I went to the hospital, got tested and found out that we were compatible.

I signed the papers and did the transplant. It was painful, but I stuck through it. You were the greener grass in the field that I couldn’t play soccer in. There are many ways to go, but I feel that was my exit along the road called love. A first love that cut deep.

I hoped you would recuperate quickly.

Your house was already a home. I was just a visitor and I didn’t plan to stay long. I took off my shoes and hung my coat. And for once I felt I could have belonged. If only you would have taken the time to take those boxes down to the sidewalks. You still have paintings on your walls. I know it’s not easy to let go and you cover the cracks and hide the moulds on the walls. It’s not easy to fool me.

I took time to move on. And eventually,I did.

I wished you would have taken the boxes of our memories to the frontiers.
But your house was no longer a home, and you were still a prisoner of the classes I used to know.

Yours,

The Visitor.

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