Lessons.

There were violins playing in the background.

Remember when we used to sit in the library at night and talk about the weirdest dreams we had had the night before? There was a certain kind of comfort in knowing that there was someone with you; it was like having a best friend you said.

You came around a full circle. And then you changed your colors and maybe it was the thought of losing something that you took for granted or maybe it was because things were going too fast for you, you turned on me and lashed out at me like I was some kind of a punching bag that you needed to let out your steam. I am not. And I could see all that depression and all that helplessness but you can’t unsay what you said and you can’t undo what you did. And even if I tell myself you’re a good person on the inside, suddenly you scare me.

I could say sorry, I could say I didn’t know. But nothing I say will make any difference. It won’t change the reality that your person is gone. And that you need to move on because life and everything with it has changed. There will be no more sneaking into libraries and sitting on the desks and pouring your heart out moments. There will be no sharing of dreams and fears anymore. There will be no more time when I’d sit with your hand in mine and tell you it’s going to be okay as your best friend.

The violins have stopped playing.

Advertisements