What even are we?
By: Low quality
We don't talk anymore, every time I look at you, I avert my gaze. I feel as if my feelings for you have been sucked away and replaced with memories that seem so out of reach. This numbing feeling I get from your presence in my space, which was once ours. Ours…how long ago that feels. For I don’t possibly understand how I could spend hours on end talking with you only to feel out of place in your new world. How, now I cannot bear speak with you for more than 5 minutes, instead I would laugh nervously and move on. I look at you, now staring back is a version where you are happier, did I hold you back?
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If this happened to me 10 months ago, I would’ve cried over your absence, but now I’ve become accustomed to it. I crave it. I crave the space, you far from me, and when you are near, I feel suffocated. When you are near, but half our friends don't want to approach the issue at hand. When you are here but speak to none of us. When you are here and you don’t want to call, text, or even look at me until I am useful. For I was a friend, confident, but now a transaction.
Now, I do not view you more than a ghost of a person I’d care deeply about. You are no longer there, instead it is replaced by a new you. A new form that I was unable to grow along side with. I could not be your frog to your toad, and I could not be the neighboring tree in your grove.
Yet some days I wonder how you feel. The days you sit with your new friends. The days where you go, yet no one says a word. With friends noticing your behavior and some not. Do you understand what you are doing? Why have a connection at all if you just wish to step in and isolate. You are like a bad connection, hanging on by the last threads of Bluetooth. I can hear the crackling, but it will soon die down and fizzle out.
I’m just waiting for you to disconnect.
