When did it all start? Was it the day she chose her path to save her heart? Or when her gentle hand that made me feel, her eyes that were emotionless but warm, would catch your eye only if you dug deep enough. She knew me better than anyone else; she was a girl like everyone else, so when did it start?
When I decided to break her heart, she would still stand by my side even though I did it. You're not just the girl I know; you're the girl who raised me in a place I thought was cruel, but it was beautiful because you were there. She was a girl I had seen everywhere; I could find her wherever I looked; she was around. Every time I crossed the street, she had a book in her hand, a phone in her pocket, and white wires trailing down to her ears. She looked tired, sad, alone, and I always wondered why? Heartbreaking from where she will revive memories, whatever she finds, I will always find myself within her. I have seen her countless times; she was nothing but an exciting painting full of sadness and guilt. But somehow, I thought I knew her, but how?
We had a lot of memories when we were strangers, but it seemed natural. Some days I also used to sit under the tree and listen to the world from very close by attaching my ears to the tree.
The bees were buzzing about the tendency to keep themselves busy with the sweet pollen of all the flowers fluttering their heads in the summer air while I was sitting in the summer sun. Like a flower, she was agile, adaptable and fast-growing. For me, shades of purple, orange and red blended like a mixture of paint, so I still don't understand why she felt so bright. Clean and painless for the things around me. I saw her again as I had seen her hundreds of times more; the surroundings were cold and dark. She looked at a gray lake in a park, and the surroundings were quiet. She was tired, sad, alone, and I always wondered why?
I still wonder why she always feels guilty. Her world seemed empty; the voices around me were vague; I always searched for her, and she was always the same every time I found her. She wants to cry but can't. My mind was clear, not full of voices, and I could understand everything clearly. She always drew sorrow, and why she went everywhere she went, I knew that all her pain was because of me. But I always wanted to be good.
I want to see her for the last time. She was always a stranger, a person, a girl, but only today it was different. She was very familiar, and I could see everything so clearly with the same sad look on her face, suddenly looking at my grave with tears streaming down her pale cheeks, I realized who I had lost.
