maybe he liked walking by people he once knew and not giving them any slight acknowledgment. maybe what he was holding all along in his sweater pocket was going to be seen anyway. he had some great friends and some unreasonable fears but he was willing to be weak for anyone who would give him the attention. he once told me to break down his barrier and really let people see who he really was. i was too weak myself to help him.

deep down, he really wasn't ugly.
deep down, he really wasn't so stupid.
(but he told me often this way he felt)

and one day he told me he was going to do something about it. i begged him to hold onto something strong, the fall could deteriorate him. and he lost his friends, some which he loved so dearly (he would think about them everyday and never even speak a word to their face). they left him. because he had changed. they hated him for being himself.

he couldn't stand things, i guess. he never heard anyone actually listening to what he was saying. (i can remember him speaking so clearly to me) and for once i was speechless. he wasn't this boy i once knew. he had become a reflection broken. he had become a name without a face. he had created who he was, simply to destroy it with not one regret facial expression.

he told me i should fall with him. he told me to runaway with him. i wrote him a letter left with a needle and a strand of my hair. and i said i was sorry.

and with no goodbyes or tears shed, i never heard from him again. (but his words still linger with me)
(and i'm sorry)

xxxx