The last

A crisis is one of the most enlightening experiences in life.

It helps you watch the so called comrades inside out.

One who enjoyed the fun times with you suddenly struggles to avoid you.

Somebody takes you out for dinner and you just close your heart against the painful clue that dinner was secondary.

You watch someone you least expect use your struggle for a different score to settle.

And you cross a closed self, walk an unwalked choice, trust a stranger enough to seek help.

You have only silence to offer at his oft repeated suggestion of a possibility of whom he believes to be your friend.

You don’t find the strength to tell him it is a friendship for fun times, you don’t find the ability to tell him the silent taunts that has made you recoil an option.

And then on a special day, obviously when he hardly knew it was your day, he too gives you his share of a pain that kills the last hope in you.

You cannot hate those with whom you shared a smile, a joke a slice of life.

But then you know within you have altered so much for a healing ever.

You realise the help was rendered by etiquette rather than out of any human bond.

You know a special day that went unnoticed holds testimony enough to what you were to someone.

And at last you know there is nobody who will miss your departure.

That makes a decision easier and you hold just your self in a tight fist.

You walked to someone with trust, you walk down with fragments of a trust.

You always thought a farewell would matter, now you know nothing ever mattered to the other.