Dude Where Are My Shorts?

I remember the last time we met. We parted mutually because the relationship was not moving forward. We were stagnated in time.

As I was packing my bags to move out I started remembering every little detail and every little time I spent in this house. The curtains, the stove, the kitchen, the bed and you…

I can still forget all but I could never let you go from my memories. It was the hardest decision I ever made in my whole life. It shattered me to the core. I am still feeling the aftershock of it all.

As I was packing an era of my life I remembered my most prized possession- my blue denim shorts.

Not your linen shirts, not your frappy hair and definitely not your crooked nose. I wanted my comfort shorts. After everything we went through I wanted my shorts back.

Dude where are my shorts? I asked again and again. When I did find them, you were wearing them like you owned them. I couldn’t take them back now!

After so many years when I finally realized as to why you did not return my shorts was nothing to do with my shorts but a part of me that you wanted to keep with you! People keep movie stubs, dinner receipt and gifts and cards, but you kept my shorts. The worn out denim shorts…

You kept a chunk of me with you in order to remember me. I can still remember how they looked on you and how that whole lifetime felt.

I no longer want my shorts back but the boy in them. The boy I left behind and the boy who loved me.