I'm not a gossip. Seriously. But I hate being the last to know. Esepcially when it comes to stuff I care about.

Just the other day, as I was lost in thoughts of Adrenaline, the marketing manager in my college stopped me on the way to my car and said to me, "Hey, Joy, X says hi." Without thinking, I said to him, "Ohkay. Hi back to him." And I hurried off.

He stopped me again. "You know, he's in the US now," he continued, oblivious to my dismissive reply. That made me stop in my tracks. "What for?" I asked, my interest piqued.

"Oh, you know, for good," he said casually. "Since his Mom is there and all."

For good.

I don't remember what he said next, but I mumbled a goodbye, acted cheerful and unruffled and told him that I had to get going.

I can't describe how I felt exactly at that moment. I didn't know if I was sad, or shocked, or couldn't care less, or plainly missing someone who stopped loving me a long time ago. I couldn't tell.

As it was, the past few months had taken its toll on my exhausted mind. Sometimes, I wanted to laugh out loud. Other times, I'd just want to curl up and will the world to go away. I wasn't sure if I was in touch with the real world anymore. And then, this.

It's funny, how everything good and bad will come successively. The ups and downs come one after the other. And it makes me wonder if God has had enough fun already. Cos I ain't laughing too much, you know.

So, I thought about his departure. I wondered why he never bothered to let me know. Question after question raced through my mind. All unanswered.

Do I not mean anything to him anymore? Not even as a friend? Will I ever see him again? Why must he let me be the last to know? And to hear it from someone I hardly know?

I felt a little sick. I felt as if everyone knew of it. Everyone but me. That instant, I wished with all my heart that I could just bring myself to hate him. I'd probably feel better that way. For all the good and bad moments he'd given me, I wished that for just a while, I could hate him, hate him for what he's done to me. Hate him for all the self-loathing that he'd caused me over the years. And hate him for just leaving me behind without a goodbye.

That night, I came home feeling unsettled. Amidst all the madness of my assignments, competitions, independent shoots and work, the thought of him had inched itself into a corner of my mind. Much as I want to hate him for leaving without a word, I felt a tear trickle down my cheek slowly.

I didn't know what to feel then. But I know that he's left. Left me behind.

For good.