Like a puzzle coming together

The pieces fit. It makes sense. How can it make sense? Because the depression forces it to.

She doesn't want to hang out with me. That's fine.

She doesn't want to take photos with me. That's fine too.

She doesn't want me to sign her dress. That doesn't make much sense, but okay.

She doesn't want to see me. under the circumstances, understandable.

But put it together.

She doesn't want to remember me.

And that hurts.

Can I blame her? i guess not.

I wouldn't want to remember me either.

I'm going to be that one that every single person knows by face and by name. But when it comes down to staying in touch, I'll fade away. A memory. It's all I'll be in the end. And even that will soon fade away in the minds of my fellow peers.

It's the last day of school. Everybody gathers around, getting their shirts and dresses signed. Making sure to try stay in touch. Asking people to sign their shirts, and asking to sign other shirts.

But not me. I ask people to sign my shirt, and they're reluctant. I ask to sign people's shirts and they hesitate.

It's not until the final day, the final chance, the final opportunity, that I realised how completely alone I really am.

And I do feel so alone.

-----
Erebus
Pursue the Darkness

Posted via email from Erebus's posterous