Tattoos About Her
Few days ago, my friend told me his story. It deserves to be told.
Last summer, I met this girl. Met won't be the right word in this context. She followed me on Instagram. She posted lines from books she read. She was that girl, you don't come across any time soon. I followed her back. Then we started texting. We talked about every thing out there. We also talked about things that people talked for breakfast at some vintage cafe in France. I came to know she was from the other side of the globe. Distance was poison. What are the stages to love? Like how are you supposed to go through it? Talking, dating and relationship? Is that all? Well, I never went through those. It was like a void in an empty space. I knew what I was getting into. But I don't regret that. Soon enough, we started caring for each other. I would tell her about my past relationship, and she would calm me down. She would tell me about hers, and I would stand by her side. Life was going like a friday night movie. I was happy. I felt special. Like did you ever talk to a person and felt a in tingle in your heart and nobody else could do that? I felt like that. The inconclusive "infinity" we created actually felt real. But then comes the intermission that you see in movies. She told me she had a terminal disease. And that she was at that stage when no medication worked. I didn't believe her. I asked her if she was kidding. She told me she was serious. And that lying won't make sense. I had to let that sink. It was like a sledgehammer I was trying to sink in my head. She told me she was really sick and would be going for her final round of the therapy. And that she would be inactive on the gram. And that day could be anytime soon. So I took screenshots of her email address, her photos and her memories. And the next day, she was gone. It's been months since we last texted. I have sent her over seventeen emails so far. I haven't got a response till now. All I need right now is some form of closure. But I think I will have to wait for a long time. I was so stupid I didn't note down her followers. I regret that so much. Few weeks ago I decided to get a tattoo. Because I remember she told me that her worst fear is that she will be forgotten. Her parents, her friends, her closed ones, everyone would forget her eventually. So I promised her I would always remember her, in some form. So I decide to get a tattoo. The brother at the tattoo shop told me whenever you're getting a tattoo, think about it for three months. If after three months, the tattoo is the same as what you thought before, then get it. The next day I went to him and got this tattoo- 'more of each other'. The last message she sent me was "I wished we had known more of each other." I don't regret that decision, even for a millisecond. And I don't think I ever will. It was a promise that I've kept. And I am proud of that. And I hope that someday I get a conclusion. Because every story does.