Usually, whenever I am asked if I would like to travel through time, my answer is always "NO!" because I believe in living in the present. I do not want to return to a past that has already sailed its boat or rush into a future I may not even appreciate once I uncover the uncomfortable truth that lies in there. But today happens to be one of those days when my answer is different.
If I had the chance right now, I would like to travel back to my past. I know most people would choose the future because it holds better prospects, but I would choose the past for good reasons. There are things I wish to fix, emotions I wish I could feel again, and people I wish I could make amends with. Most of all, I would go back just to have my best friend in my life again.

When I was a teenager in my first year of university, heading into my second, I experienced grief that broke me in ways I had never imagined. Considering I was always the friend who rarely spoke about her challenges but comforted others, that part of me only grew stronger during this period. I subconsciously began to isolate myself from friends and coursemates, including my best friend.
Many people cared enough to notice that something was wrong, but whenever they asked, I found it difficult to share details of my grief. I was more open with my best friend, but that period seemed to be different. I withdrew completely and even disappeared from social media.
As my best friend, she still reached out through calls, even though she missed my online presence more. I did the same too. I remember many times she told me how my distance made her feel unimportant. I kept assuring her that I just needed some time. And frankly, I expected her to understand me just that one time, but she didn't. Days became weeks and weeks quietly became months. Yet nothing changed. Our conversations became less frequent and I did not realize how far the silence had gone until I lost the friendship.

There was no official breakup between us, but our friendship went through the slow fade that often happens between lovers who drift apart until they begin to speak like strangers. What made it harder was knowing that we still had time to fix things, but both of us were too exhausted to try. Eventually, we had one last phone call and I admitted that I did not want to put her through any more emotional stress. She did not deserve that. So, I let go of the friendship completely. We stopped being the girls who shared everything, laughed and gossiped with each other, went to the cinema together and created the most beautiful memories. We became acquaintances. Along the way, I also lost other friends who truly cared but could no longer stay through the silence.

These days, when I see people posting moments with their best friends of ten or twenty years, I feel a strong wave of sadness. I wish I still had mine. Some days, I have weird and funny thoughts come to my mind, and I know she would have understood them perfectly. Sometimes it is the places I visit and realize how much I would have enjoyed them with her. And when I celebrate my little wins, I know she would have been the first person I wanted to tell. A lot of moments still feel empty without her.
Unfortunately, I cannot go back to fix what I majorly broke. And sometimes, I think it is good that I learned the big lesson of what friendship truly means from the experience. Still, if time travel were possible, I would choose to return without hesitation. I would go back to hug my best friend again, to share my deepest worries, to share that grief that was too hard to communicate, and to let her be the safe space she always tried to be. I would go back to my past for that one friend I hoped to experience adulthood with. And if I had more chances, I would bring the other friends I lost into my present.

This blog post is a response to the Week 19 Hive Students Prompt:
"If you could travel through time, would you go to the past or the future?"
I invite @soma18 @sperosamuel15 @luchyl to explore this prompt and share their thoughts with us. More details here.

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