There’s something about the way you look at her. A way that’s so apparent to everyone around you, even me. But she doesn’t look back at you the same. She never has.
Despite that, you still keep looking with this impeccable glimmer in your eyes. Your dream, you think, standing right in front of you. Almost a fingertip away.
But I stand next to you and watch as your eyes slowly deceive you. You follow her as she drifts further and further away. All that’s left: an eerie trace of what used to be.
But you hold on, onto those little memories that seem so big now. I see them fading. But you stand gripping to them with all of your might, afraid.
Afraid of looking beyond the closed spaces.
Afraid of walking outside your comfort zone.
Afraid of seeing what’s outside that door.
Deep down, you know. You know she walked out of that door before you even opened it, you just didn’t know it then.
I hope you see it now.
I hope you walk away.
You deserve to walk away.