I feel like a half-finished, poorly expressed sentence in a cheap novel.

But only here. Only here.

For perhaps you know that veils are thin,
between where this world stops,
and another begins.

Months later, and a new roommate, a new school a new appreciation. Months later, and a new outlook, a new rade point average, a new circle of friends. Months later, and I'm older. Months later, but Will I be lost? Months later, this is not a New Me. I don't want it. There are no neglectful friends in my life anymore. I love the old ones from a distance. I don't know if they love me back. I read that you work to have relationships like ours - you work for the longevity of it all. It's only work if you move something, and while I tap for you and await the old applause, you think of me as still, silent, breathlessly awaiting reunion. It's so arrogant of you, to leave me alone across town. If I didn't call you, I'd never hear from you at all. I call and I say, "I miss you." And you say back, "I miss you too." Don't you see how your reaction - your lack of action - is poisonous to us? To what we were? We were so close and now, months later, I am numb to your neglect.

Tired of.

How are you? Fine. Fine is not a feeling. Fine is the end of a conversation. The end of you&me, Mostly the end of you for me.

Most of you, lack effort. Yet, require me to inquisite, just to open the floor for your life. The life, im no part of, and no desire of hearing.

----

You loved me because I was fragile.