There are those gorgeous masterpieces, that flow well like our friendship did.
The colors blended together perfectly and each chosen color brought out and complimented another. It was a piece that'd take onlookers' breath away, it took my breath away when it lasted.
It was a beautiful creation and at that point, I never doubted we both kept it like that, we both put in the equal efforts. The teamwork did make the dream work, but the dream did not last.
The piece that once looked so breathtakingly beautiful, earned a small smudge.
Now the piece was tainted, but it was a mere small smudge. But it threw off the whole piece and onlookers could only notice that one, small smudge.
To us, the creators, it should've been an easy fix if we just tried and put in equal amounts of effort. You and I did.
But, the smudge grew, it started to take over the once breathtaking piece, covering the once beautifully blended colors that complimented each other amazingly.
It was going through a downward spiral.
I put in all my efforts to save it. I, I, I.
Where was your part in the work? It was gone. But I continued to try to fix it, it'll work, it'll work, it has to work, please...let it work.
The smudge only grew and I was the only one who could see it then. You were already gone. But I want it to work so badly, I continue to try and make it work. I want the masterpiece back.
You left and never considered what the state of the work was, you were unaware that once amazing masterpiece, was now nothing but black.
It hurt.
But I didn't want to disappoint you, so those small moments you checked in on me, I hid it. I didn't want you to see the failure I was.
It hurt.
You looked so glad when I'd say that the masterpiece is 'fine', 'good', 'great', 'okay', etc.
It hurt to say it all. But I knew it would hurt more for you to see that the piece was in terrible shape, that I am a failure, that I am weak, I am struggling, I am hurt. I knew it'd hurt you more.
It's still going and it's hard, because I want you to know, but after the first smudge, I noticed that you couldn't sense me that well, more and more, until not at all.
I took the cowardly route, the selfish route, the stupid route, and I'm now stuck.
But it's okay, it's fine.
I hope those hours of talks were enjoyable, that they weren't fake. I wish to believe they were good selfishly.
I will continue living my lie. It hurts, but I will.
Those times you checked in, but suddenly disappeared, it hurt. I wanted you to tell me flatly to leave, to say I am not needed anymore, say I am unwanted, it would've been so much better.
But I know why you never did, you were probably more than aware that I am weak, you are not like that and I should know.
But I have selfish needs, I want a reason to cry, instead of crying when you display a kind action. It's selfish, I hate it, it hurts.
Thoughts are scary, because of how much they hate you.
In the end, people wondered where the smudge came from. I'd act as if I was unaware, it hurt. I know where the smudge came from, I was well aware of what it came from.
It was me, it was my fault.
I'm no victim, I'm far from it, I'm the sin, the problem. Yet I decide to mask it, to hide the failure I am, I decide to continue on, I'm always taking the cowardly route.
This is why my gallery is black.
