Flashbacks.

Nothing makes me remember more than totems of the past; fragrances, sounds and objects. The fragrance of the lavender scent we have in our house at the moment takes me back to early memories of winter 2014, where I played on my guitar morning and evening, listened to heart-wrenching songs, wrote journal entries signed as Catherine to symbolise my cheerfulness and as Soraya to reflect my sadness. The sound of the school buses hitting the tree branches every morning takes me back to grade ten and eleven school bus rides, laughing along with immature, troublesome seventh graders, listening to unreal stories of boyish adventures, opening the windows and letting the cold air refresh my mind, to nourish it for a new day. The volleyball net at school reminds of me Zeina and Nouran, playing swerves, allowing the ball to rise higher and higher, our eyes focused on a distance-- the most precise distance that would let our palms smack the ball, reaching the other side.

And Saturdays teleport me back to mornings started with baby giggles, coffee cups half-filled with foam, pancakes, jam and cinnamon, a mother smiling endearingly from the outside yet crushed into a million smithereens of lost dignity from the inside.

But people.. well they don't remind me of anything. People change, continuously, with a rate that consequently makes us lose friendships, families and bonds. I woke up one morning knowing that I won't have you as my dearest friend again. I slept that night knowing that I didn't give you a kiss goodbye. I sat on my classroom chair knowing you won't sit beside me, because you chose to change.

I did change, too. And I thank everyone who stayed through this change, who put up with me new theories and dispositions. It's been difficult, but thank you.

I hope the flashbacks don't kill you as they kill me.