When was it that we first met? Sometime in college? I can’t remember. It’s like you’ve always been there.
I will remember how we spent nearly every night together. I lose count of the things you’ve shared with me. The constant discovery. How you were always there: patient, reliable. My friends think I’m smart – what they don’t know is half the time I’m just repeating something I learnt from you. I sang your praises to everyone who would listen (few did).
Over the years I tried other things. They were prettier, sexier. They dressed up better. But it was always your simplicity, your straightforwardness, that kept me coming back.
Yesterday you broke the news: you’re going away – for good. People don’t love you enough, you say. But I do, I scream inside, and I wish that were enough, but it isn’t.
You tell me to see someone else, and I’ve tried, but they just aren’t the same. The flow isn’t there. They don’t understand me as well, and they keep wanting me to do something new, out of my comfort zone. They all seem to want something from me. They don’t understand how one needs to escape to something stable and constant, away from crazy, fickle reality.
It’s hard to imagine life without you.
Goodbye, Google Reader :(