DREAM OF ME

“We don’t care; we’re driving Cadillacs in our dreams” - Lorde, Royals.

 
The sweet scent of the detergent fills the room every inch. It’s like a version of happiness, if happiness exists in smell.
 
That day you’re doing laundry, you will pile your clothes on your bed. The smell would evaporate into the air and make way into my lungs. Later that day, you would fold them nicely and put them away in your locker. I would rather sleep than waiting for you to finish folding them. You were almost invariably complaining that doing laundry is not your specialty; that you were too lazy to wash them and hang them and fold them, yet you do your laundry more often than I did. I, on the other hand, never fold my clothes properly. I’d rather hang them all.
 
I would, at other times, wait for you till you come back. And then we had our little conversations, which I would never trade for anything else in the world. Then we talk and laugh, and eat. Life has always been great, if not too forgiving.
 
When the windows are open, we could see the clouds behind the trees. Happiness exists in there too. When the season came, the trees would smell funny, and you would complain and I would laugh.
 
Cats sometimes wander in front of our room, making noises while begging for food. At nights, we complained that our room is too hot. You would spray your bed with water, and we had two fans on to cool us down. Yet the room is still hot and the heat would wake us up two or three times more later. I wonder how paradise looks like, if living here feels so much like heaven in spite of all these shortcomings.
 
I wonder how much you would miss this, or how much would I miss you, and how much would you miss me.
 
I already miss the funny smell of the tree, the sound of you laughing. Even the sound of the cats meowing.
 
2 years previously, I imagined how it would make me feel if you suddenly gone. And now the scene is unfolding slowly, zooming in into a vivid picture. And it is exactly as how I predicted.
 
You told me it’s a phase we’ll both outgrow, but I refuse to move on. This is the phase where I would last see you, before you would be gone forever into oblivion.
 
I don’t have many friends, and you are the one who stayed the longest, despite those fights and brawls we had. Goodbyes are always inevitable after hellos, but what we make between these two is what matters. And we had roses for two full years between our hello and goodbye, with the beauty and the thorns both we endeavour.
 
You never understood me and my actions fully, the same way I never understood your stubbornness and your mood swing. But there’s something more than those that we see in each other, of our need of each other.
 
There’s no adhesive force, no bond that binding us. But I love you so much as a friend I want to be your neighbour in Jannah (because apparently the post of your roommate is already taken :P)
 
I believe in so many things, though all those beliefs are always destroyed every time I learn the reality. But I believe in us meeting again in afterlife, friends again. And I hope it’s not too much to ask from God.
 
I imagine life without you. Would I laugh when I remember your comment on the smell of the trees, or would I cry when I miss those chats we had? Would you still remember those TV series we watched together on our laptops? Would we still be the same whenever we meet again? Would you still remember every single thing we talked about? Would you?
 
Would I be sad looking into the empty space where it used to keep you and your belongings in?  Would I miss you laughing at our stupid jokes? Could I live on my own again without feeling a bit lonely? I don’t know, but until I try, I would never know.
 
So farewell now, dear friend. I couldn’t remember the exact number of goodbyes I’d ever said, but no one goodbye is easy to bid. Especially this time.
 
But I will be happy to know that this starts and ends perfectly well, that no word is left unsaid and nothing is left undone. And having you to call as friend, is an eternal blessing. Thanks, roommate.