The one who got away.
It’s a lamentable loss that everybody can relate to, a loss resonating from deep within every heart that knows how to love.
It’s a story with countless versions played by varying characters, but the plot remains the same: In the end, someone always leaves.
It’s such a tragic story, indeed, to have lost someone you almost had, or could have had, as decades’ worth of sad love songs playing during lazy Sunday afternoons would like to remind you.
That’s the one who got away.
But have you heard of the one who’s just there?
Less known, but also as tragic — and sometimes, more — is the one who’s just there.
It doesn’t matter if you see them once a day or once a month, and whether you talk to them for a few minutes or a few hours at a time. What counts is not the frequency, but the consistency of their presence.
And that’s where the problem lies. Everything, along with everyone else, changes, except for the one who’s just there. They are a constant in the equation that is your life. They’re so constant, in fact, that you’re sure they will always be someone you know — an acquaintance or maybe even a best friend — but nothing beyond that. That would be perfectly fine if only you didn’t want more.
But you do.
There’s nothing more frustrating in this world than to stand only a foot away from the one who’s just there and yet, you can’t do anything to close that last remaining distance.
You realize that the longest bridge in the world is the couple of inches that separates your fingers from theirs, because the longest bridge in the world is the one you can’t cross.
The reasons why you two can’t be together vary, but they are all maddeningly valid — otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this position. But whatever reason you might have, nothing changes the fact that nothing will ever change between the two of you.
The one who’s just there is a painful reminder that not everything within your reach can be yours.
The one who’s just there.
Sometimes, you wish they would go the hell away.