So, was going through my Google Drive today, and found an old article of mine. This was written around the time that the Xbox One was releasing.
“I was in the seventh grade when I first met her. She wasn’t new. She had been around for many years, and I had met her once or twice before, but it was only when my uncle gave me the means to see her frequently, that I truly fell in love with her.
It was slow at first. I’d come home from school, and we’d spend some time together. We’d get to know each other more. I found out that she knew my best friend too. The three of us would sometimes get together and spend some time. We’d have fun, laughing and playing late into the evening.
I got to know her story. One of hardship, struggles, one of great difficulty. I became absorbed in what she was. In her past, her present. What could be in her future.
I learnt everything that I could about her. Some from her, some from people who knew her. Some who had helped shape her story themselves. The sad stories, the great stories, the terrible ones, the muddled ones. I learnt all that I could.
I wasn’t simply in love, I was infatuated. Almost every waking moment was spent thinking about her, about how wonderful my time with her was.
Then… she changed. Her old parents left her, and she got a new family. A family that changed her.
They tried to take care of her. They tried to listen, but their own views came in the way. So she changed. Spending time with her was still fun, but it just wasn’t the same. Something… something had changed.
Slowly, I too drifted away. I started going after other things, other people. Once in a while, we’d meet up, and it would be fun… but not amazing. Slowly, my love for her died. From the massive, blazing fire, it shrunk to a small flame. A small, yet resolute flame.
My friends began to get bored with meeting her. They’d get annoyed whenever I brought her name up. I’d watch our old videos sometimes, try to remember the wonderful times we had. But even those were pointless. I’d try acting like it was the old days, before she changed, but it never worked. I’d enjoy myself, but soon enough, that feeling would die.
She had new stories, exciting tales, but I stopped wanting to hear them. She would always be there, but she had simply changed too much. My attention went elsewhere. My heart went elsewhere.
Then… she moved. Left her old house behind, left her old folks behind, left our memories behind… left me behind. I couldn’t follow her. I wanted to, but… I both couldn’t and didn’t want to.
I also moved. Left behind everything and moved to a new home. A wonderful home. A home where I have so much more to do. So many exciting things. A home filled with endless possibilities, and filled with longing for what I left behind. I still hear about her from time to time. How she’s grown, how she has so many more stories to share. The thing is, if I wanted to, I could always listen to those stories. Watch those films. But, I can never meet her. Even if I get the chance, it won’t be a proper meeting. It won’t be how it used to be. Partly because of how she’s changed, and also… because of how I’ve changed. Because I won’t allow myself to see her, even though my heart hurts because of it.
Because if I were to meet her again, I wouldn’t be able to live unless I could be with her forever.
Halo, you’ll always be one of my loves.”
Yup, holds up.