Your voice sounds so faraway, distant, almost cold. Maybe you don't mean it, maybe you don't really want to hurt me, but it seems like you do.

You don't warm up to the conversational tone I try so hard to maintain. There is a slight, uncomfortable silence; like that of two strangers who have accidentally collided into one another, before you clear your throat and change the subject. That was not the silence of old friends. It has changed. Yes, indeed. It has changed.

A wave of emotions overcomes me as I write, choking its cold hand down my throat savagely.

No matter how much you try and deny it, no matter how much you try and hide it, avoid it, dodge it, it doesn't matter. There's no need to hide anymore. No need to cover your face in shame. No need. Our relationship has changed. Get over that stage of denial. Tear your props down, rip those curtains apart, call your dancers off the stage. I faced the truth a long time ago. It's over.

The silence said it all. There used to be warmth lingering in that same silence whenever we stopped talking. There used to be this blanket of safety and security; of joy whenever silence fell upon us. We would be safe in the knowledge that we were each other's confidantes, friends. Were. You notice I use past tense? Yes, exactly. Precisely my point.

The emotions wreak havoc in my eyes, teasing them. I see the sharp glint of sunlight, cold against the glass.

It's different now. You were open, welcoming. Talking to you was like coming home after a long and tiring journey. It was like stepping into a haven built for the two of us; for our voices.

But now? Oh, times have changed. You claim you aren't, and I quote 'two-faced', hypocritical, but I'm beginning to think differently. I'm not so sure anymore. All I realise is that now, talking to you is like speaking to a wall. Speaking to the guard posted outside the gates of your palace. Immediately, I feel unwelcome. Not inferior, but simply unwelcome, as though I was a speck of dust nestled between clean, sparkling glasses. As if you were waving your hand at me, asking me to leave. Now, we speak in short sentences, quick, fast, no time for emotions to interfere, no time for that almost silent sob to shock you. Almost in monotone, as though scared of awakening our own thoughts, as though frightened of disturbing those restlessly sleeping feelings. You always make an effort to sound cheerful, as though you were not preoccupied with anything else; but, the tone fails miserably and trails away with head bent and tail between its legs as you take your hasty but relieved leave.

Go away, leave me. I do not have time for you.

The expression on your face too, is different. I get the impression that you're trying to avoid me, as though to say you do not, and never knew me.

You go to special lengths to make me feel as though I am still what I was to you last time. But I know. Don't worry. Don't even bother trying.

All those walks we had, do you still remember them? They are fading slowly, turning from golden rainbows of coloured snapshots and photographs to dark, dull negatives hanging to dry. Those memories, do you cherish them? Slipping away in my grasp, laughing mockingly. Was I nothing more to you than a tool? All those things I told you, brought up from the depths of my heart, do you still remember them?

I used to think highly of you, used to count you amongst my closest friends, but you've changed. Our relationship, so close knit last time, is slowly dying. It is a plant that has not been watered, but, instead, thrown aside. You would never come here anyway. Even if you did, you would not realise that this is about you, to you, blissfully ignorant, there is no such thing as a subtle hint.

But, no matter, my patience has not run out yet. I shall remember what I learnt from you; keep a smile upon your face, and no one shall know, or guess what your thoughts and emotions truly are.

Go ahead with your entourage of chattering and delightful gaggle of friends. Go.

Leave me here. I will watch you until you are out of sight.

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