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I only had to look once into your eyes to see the ocean in them bubbling, frothing, lashing out angrily in the thunderstorm. I must’ve cowered in fear, I think. You always scared me when you were like that.
You were always angry. Always. But you never showed it. Maybe to appear cool, calm, composed, more like everybody else. And so you did. But never normal. Of all the words I could use to describe you, normal was never one.
Your eyes, when I first saw them, seemed ordinary enough to me. I had seen my fair share of blue-eyed boys. Yet soon I learnt to see the changes in them, learnt to see you in them. Even when your face was emotionless and cold, your eyes told me exactly where you were, what you were thinking, what you were feeling. I learnt to see the fire under your bright smile, the storm beneath your laugh. I learnt to never believe you when you said you’d be fine.
That cold night when you called me up, I knew something was terribly wrong, right from the moment when I saw your name flashing on the electric display. You did not like admitting that you were upset, or hurt. You did not like to take anyone’s help.
Yet at that time you needed me, badly, and you told me so without any shame- only fear and despair in your voice. I guess we all become a different person when we’re too afraid, too sad, too shocked. I did not have to think twice before saying that I’d be there in fifteen minutes; I’d always be there for you.
I attended the funeral with you, both of us silent, too sad to show it anymore. The snow fell like confetti, fluttering lightly before perching on every surface, delicately. Happily. It did not know how we felt, but the grey sky did. Colourless. Lifeless.
As we walked noiselessly down the street, my insides felt frozen, like the icicles on the trees, the shops and windows. Did you feel the same? It must have been a beautiful sight, but neither of us noticed. I could not see past our breath coming out in white clouds, mingling and hanging in the air. I wanted to talk to you, comfort you, but I did not know how. I regret it now.
Would it have made a difference if I had spoken to you that day and told you that I understand, yes, I do feel the same way? Maybe not…but I feel it would have. You would have felt better. Maybe you would have realised that I was your friend after all.
But it did not happen like that, all because a silly, uncertain girl was too lost and too troubled to say it out loud. Because you would never see me the same way again.
I would always remain as that silent presence by you, always there but never feeling with you. If possible, making you guiltier. I was that voiceless person, whose thoughts you could never read, whom you imagined to be against you.
Maybe this was the reason for your sudden distance from me. We never spoke much anyway, but now it was all different. You rarely met my eye anymore, afraid that I would read your thoughts, find something you didn’t want me to. And I failed to understand that.
I was shocked beyond words that day. I had been trying to ask you what was wrong, but you avoided the question. Finally, you lost it. Your eyes flashed and screamed hatred as you told me that you didn’t need me around, that I was more of a problem than a help to you. That you would be so much better off without me.
I didn’t realised what led you to feel that way, and I felt wrecked with the hurt of betrayal. I had been there for you, I thought, what gave him the right to say all that? It would take me years to piece it together, years to find out where I had gone wrong.
There is nothing that can be done. I regret that day, think about it a lot, especially on such cold, unfriendly and aloof days. But I hope, that no matter where you are or what you’re doing, you remember me, and understand me for what I really wanted to be. Because if you do, then I can be at peace.  
I only had to look once into your eyes to see the ocean in them bubbling, frothing, lashing out angrily in the thunderstorm. I must’ve cowered in fear, I think. You always scared me when you were like that.
You were always angry. Always. But you never showed it. Maybe to appear cool, calm, composed, more like everybody else. And so you did. But never normal. Of all the words I could use to describe you, normal was never one.
Your eyes, when I first saw them, seemed ordinary enough to me. I had seen my fair share of blue-eyed boys. Yet soon I learnt to see the changes in them, learnt to see you in them. Even when your face was emotionless and cold, your eyes told me exactly where you were, what you were thinking, what you were feeling. I learnt to see the fire under your bright smile, the storm beneath your laugh. I learnt to never believe you when you said you’d be fine.
That cold night when you called me up, I knew something was terribly wrong, right from the moment when I saw your name flashing on the electric display. You did not like admitting that you were upset, or hurt. You did not like to take anyone’s help.
Yet at that time you needed me, badly, and you told me so without any shame- only fear and despair in your voice. I guess we all become a different person when we’re too afraid, too sad, too shocked. I did not have to think twice before saying that I’d be there in fifteen minutes; I’d always be there for you.
I attended the funeral with you, both of us silent, too sad to show it anymore. The snow fell like confetti, fluttering lightly before perching on every surface, delicately. Happily. It did not know how we felt, but the grey sky did. Colourless. Lifeless.
As we walked noiselessly down the street, my insides felt frozen, like the icicles on the trees, the shops and windows. Did you feel the same? It must have been a beautiful sight, but neither of us noticed. I could not see past our breath coming out in white clouds, mingling and hanging in the air. I wanted to talk to you, comfort you, but I did not know how. I regret it now.
Would it have made a difference if I had spoken to you that day and told you that I understand, yes, I do feel the same way? Maybe not…but I feel it would have. You would have felt better. Maybe you would have realised that I was your friend after all.
But it did not happen like that, all because a silly, uncertain girl was too lost and too troubled to say it out loud. Because you would never see me the same way again.
I would always remain as that silent presence by you, always there but never feeling with you. If possible, making you guiltier. I was that voiceless person, whose thoughts you could never read, whom you imagined to be against you.
Maybe this was the reason for your sudden distance from me. We never spoke much anyway, but now it was all different. You rarely met my eye anymore, afraid that I would read your thoughts, find something you didn’t want me to. And I failed to understand that.
I was shocked beyond words that day. I had been trying to ask you what was wrong, but you avoided the question. Finally, you lost it. Your eyes flashed and screamed hatred as you told me that you didn’t need me around, that I was more of a problem than a help to you. That you would be so much better off without me.
I didn’t realised what led you to feel that way, and I felt wrecked with the hurt of betrayal. I had been there for you, I thought, what gave him the right to say all that? It would take me years to piece it together, years to find out where I had gone wrong.
There is nothing that can be done. I regret that day, think about it a lot, especially on such cold, unfriendly and aloof days. But I hope, that no matter where you are or what you’re doing, you remember me, and understand me for what I really wanted to be. Because if you do, then I can be at peace.  
I only had to look once into your eyes to see the ocean in them bubbling, frothing, lashing out angrily in the thunderstorm. I must’ve cowered in fear, I think. You always scared me when you were like that.
You were always angry. Always. But you never showed it. Maybe to appear cool, calm, composed, more like everybody else. And so you did. But never normal. Of all the words I could use to describe you, normal was never one.
Your eyes, when I first saw them, seemed ordinary enough to me. I had seen my fair share of blue-eyed boys. Yet soon I learnt to see the changes in them, learnt to see you in them. Even when your face was emotionless and cold, your eyes told me exactly where you were, what you were thinking, what you were feeling. I learnt to see the fire under your bright smile, the storm beneath your laugh. I learnt to never believe you when you said you’d be fine.
That cold night when you called me up, I knew something was terribly wrong, right from the moment when I saw your name flashing on the electric display. You did not like admitting that you were upset, or hurt. You did not like to take anyone’s help.
Yet at that time you needed me, badly, and you told me so without any shame- only fear and despair in your voice. I guess we all become a different person when we’re too afraid, too sad, too shocked. I did not have to think twice before saying that I’d be there in fifteen minutes; I’d always be there for you.
I attended the funeral with you, both of us silent, too sad to show it anymore. The snow fell like confetti, fluttering lightly before perching on every surface, delicately. Happily. It did not know how we felt, but the grey sky did. Colourless. Lifeless.
As we walked noiselessly down the street, my insides felt frozen, like the icicles on the trees, the shops and windows. Did you feel the same? It must have been a beautiful sight, but neither of us noticed. I could not see past our breath coming out in white clouds, mingling and hanging in the air. I wanted to talk to you, comfort you, but I did not know how. I regret it now.
Would it have made a difference if I had spoken to you that day and told you that I understand, yes, I do feel the same way? Maybe not…but I feel it would have. You would have felt better. Maybe you would have realised that I was your friend after all.
But it did not happen like that, all because a silly, uncertain girl was too lost and too troubled to say it out loud. Because you would never see me the same way again.
I would always remain as that silent presence by you, always there but never feeling with you. If possible, making you guiltier. I was that voiceless person, whose thoughts you could never read, whom you imagined to be against you.
Maybe this was the reason for your sudden distance from me. We never spoke much anyway, but now it was all different. You rarely met my eye anymore, afraid that I would read your thoughts, find something you didn’t want me to. And I failed to understand that.
I was shocked beyond words that day. I had been trying to ask you what was wrong, but you avoided the question. Finally, you lost it. Your eyes flashed and screamed hatred as you told me that you didn’t need me around, that I was more of a problem than a help to you. That you would be so much better off without me.
I didn’t realised what led you to feel that way, and I felt wrecked with the hurt of betrayal. I had been there for you, I thought, what gave him the right to say all that? It would take me years to piece it together, years to find out where I had gone wrong.
There is nothing that can be done. I regret that day, think about it a lot, especially on such cold, unfriendly and aloof days. But I hope, that no matter where you are or what you’re doing, you remember me, and understand me for what I really wanted to be. Because if you do, then I can be at peace.  
 




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