When I got my forst salary, the first thing I wanted to do was to head to a swarowski showroom. You love their sparkly crystals and I had vowed in my heart that I’d buy you a ring from them with my first salary.
Then I wanted to reserve a table at the nearest TGI Fridays, because what better way to present the ring, than over those Ultimate Long Islands you love so much?
I planned on surprising you with the night, colluding with my sister to get you to market where the restaurant where was. I planned on popping out with a bunch of Rajnigandhas, your favourite flowers and seeing the love on your face.
This fantasy was so real to me, that I desperately started looking for a way to earn money. I tried being an online image editor, with non-existent skills at 14, a photographer at age 15, doing chores for money around the house. But it wasn’t enough and I fretted keeping this secret, I wanted to see your happy face so bad.
But you never even gave me the chance, you went away from my life age 16. I keep finetuning the details every year, resolutely ignore the calendar on on your birthday and anniversary. I pervertedly read every mother’s day post every year and torture myself knowing you were better than the rest.
I drink a Long Island on June 17th, knowing that’s the only way you’d like to be remembered by me. From when we were happy.


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