third year priya desai

About a month ago, I came to terms with my fatal flaw. I am entirely incapable of letting anyone go. And I mean anyone.

The people I love take up permanent residence in my brain, probably clearing out some dear childhood memories to make space for their birthdays and dreams and favorite foods. They sit there, in their dusty corners, and bang on the walls every so often to remind me of what I’m missing—even though it isn’t there anymore, even though it will never be there again. Even though we both know this to be true: that if I were to reach out right now, nothing would be the way we remember it. But this doesn’t matter, so we continue on as best we can. Them, drawing attention to themselves whenever they can, whenever I hear that song, see that car, pick up that book. Them, desperately scared I might forget them; me, convinced I never will.

The other night, in my dreams, I saw the face of someone I haven’t spoken to in at least a year. My subconscious has been especially creative as of late, fabricating hyper-realistic dreams—almost like memories—as my brain scrambles to provide me with a sense of closure, because the idea of just drifting apart will never be satisfying enough for me. This is all very horrifying, especially to my closest friends, who insist that I could learn to let go if I really tried.

But I can’t! Instead, I have decided to come to terms with it, this tendency of mine to forgive but never forget. Realistically, I have no true defense for never letting anyone go. But I’m pretending to learn to accept the things I cannot change, so, for now, I think I’ll frame it like this instead. Despite how fractured our relationship may now be, these memories that haunt me are just remnants of the way we once were. I’d like to think that the way I hold onto things says more about my capacity for love than anything else. Without these experiences, this inevitable love and loss, I wouldn’t be who I am today—and neither would these people, these ghosts in my life. What I’m missing doesn’t exist anymore, but it once did, and that’s enough.

in defense of never letting anyone go