I remember the many nights spent walking in the heat and dust, sitting through 2-hour bus rides stuck in traffic, walking through the flooded streets of Chinatown. I remember you bringing me hot noodle soup and jelly rolls when I got sick, and buying me ice cream every day of the summer we spent together. I remember how we tried to keep from falling apart as we waded through all the inconveniences of a third world country – The floods, the traffic, the heat, the congestion, angry coworkers . You came home every night dissatisfied, phone constantly ringing. You always assured me that everything was okay as long as I was there.
But I’d stay up and look at the cracks, wondering when you’d start to hate me. You always said the city wasn’t for you, that our little hometown was the perfect place. And no matter how many times you told me it was worth it, I never felt safe.
We fooled ourselves into thinking being together in the same zipcode would make things better. But the inconvenience started to wear on you and I knew that if I kept you too long, you’d start to hate me.
So you packed your bags and we said our goodbyes, as I told you to reach for your dreams. Knowing inside that the instant I disappeared from your view, you’d find another face to love.