Some say I should be the better person and tell you I'm sorry, that I'll regret it my whole life if I don't. I scream in my mind "don't you think I know that?!" but you seek advice when you know the truth you don't want to accept, and hope that someone gives you an innovative alternative. None have, yet. I'd say that I'd keep searching, but time is running short; the last grains of sand are slowly trickling to the bottom of the hourglass.
In many ways I want this to be over. Yet not the way in which you think. I want this situation to be done, and for things to perhaps return to something normal; a time where I don't cry over you, or am depressed over you, when I can look at you and smile, or perhaps start a conversation. Is that so much to ask for?
Someone once told me, "In the three years we were close friends, I've never seen you so depressed," and thinking on this, I realised it was true. But I question: is the mark of love how much it hurts you to have it gone? Or is it better to have it gone because it hurts you?
I cannot understand how you must muster more courage to be humble than you do to be brave. Perhaps because in the latter you are gambling with your life, something fleeting, something which will eventually mean nothing, while in the former, you gamble your heart; and the heart knows tragedy like no other.
Sometimes I believe that we would all be better if we lost ourselves in the faery kingdom, as our ancestors had, long ago. Then we would need no pain like this, no worry, no need to be courageous in matters we thought we'd never face. The cobwebs would have been our playthings, the flowers our loves, the leaves our shelter, we should have needed nothing more.
But we are human, and those times are long gone, the faeries disappeared into their dwelling places within the earth, not to be glimpsed by the eyes of humanity; for humanity is a lie. It speaks of compassion and comfort and love, but in reality, will betray them out of fear. Humanity's weakness is its own insecurities, its fatal flaw the one it cannot overcome.
Thus I am left here, and you seem to sit beside me, your ghost leading all that I do, and I know that I cannot look at you, but perhaps I should not have to; the downfall began when we wanted to be lovers but knew not how to let go of the friendship. The truth is, we were limiting ourselves; if we had let our friendship grow, it would have encompassed us in our entirety and we would have become much more than mere lovers.
But it is too late. I cannot even look you in the eye; as a friend I never had to, as a lover I never could, and now as a stranger, want to, but simply cannot because it hurts. But it's the,most odd feeling, missing someone who is part of you, but is now nothing more than a stranger; and yet, so much more than a stranger.