It's late, I'm tired, and I'm not in the most pleasant of moods. I'm haunted by the ghost of a friendship. A friendship that died without my knowledge that I have to mourn because it's clearly never coming back.
Why?
I don't have the pleasure of the 'why' the 'what' the 'how'; I don't have any of those answers.
She does.
And she's not telling.
This whole situation makes me think of all of the people that I've fallen out with in the past and the people that I refuse to (no refuse is the wrong word, don't) talk to anymore. Most, if not all, of them all have express moments when I've realised that they are not worth the air that I breathe and that contact with them should be stopped on all levels. It's curt and brutal but it is courteous still. If they, all of a sudden, why we don't talk, I'll explain why I'm holding a grudge and either they'll accept it or challenge it to make us friends once again. The odd few obstinate ones will challenge and not back down.
The point is, if you've told someone that a bridge has been burnt, that's it. You know, they know. You know they know. They know that you know that they know. It's all cyclical and people can start yoga and pilates in the aftermath. But I again, don't have that pleasure. It's like the tree that falls that no one's there to hear it. The bridge between me and this girl fell, I didn't hear it so it's not made a sound. The only person who may have heard the sound is not making a sound.
Cycles are a bitch.
This has distracted me from reviewing All Forgotten's 'Transitions' tonight, it's bugged me all night, but I will review it, Danger Days and Broadway all in the coming week. They all will answer questions I posit.
If only she'd do the same...
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