It hurt to see her. It hurt to see her happy without me. Knowing that there was nothing that I could do to bring her back was the worst feeling in the world. It tore me. It broke me that something so feeble could shatter steel. From day one, we were soul mates. We had the same sense of humour, the same taste in music and film. It hurt to see her happy without me.
There laid a wall that stood thickly between us. Solid. Transparent. I could see through the lies that built up the barrier, but there was nothing that I could’ve ever done to break through what was based upon something I didn’t do.
The outsider had pushed her way in. Standing where I stood, she relished in the lies whispered to her through summer breeze and cared not for truth, but what sympathies the alleged would bring her. If ever I tried to right the wrong and shed light on truth, she would claim that all was too much, that my gentle pressure was too firm.
It hurt to see her. It hurt to see her happy as me. I knew that there was nothing I could ever do to knock her mud and stick tower to the deserved ground. It was unfair. I yerned to return to how things once were, but there were too many unknowns, too many people involved for them to think me honest. My word against their heresay, my truth against their ideal present.
So this treasured friendship was lost. Our ship wrecked at the bottom of the dishonest sea after waves after waves washed over our pure truth. I don’t blame her for missing the rocks and I don’t think any less of the others who swam with the current. I blame myself for thinking we could sail over an eternally calm sea. Storms are to be expected and those waves were inevitable. I suppose I never thought we would crash so silently.