"The picture looks beautiful, but the reality is, there is no beauty."

Truth. Deep, forced to look inward and analyze yourself, truth. The truth is, inside I'm screaming, fighting. I refuse to let you go. No. I won't sit her and tell myself "change happens," that we're falling apart, that you want to let go. I won't be the one to end it and watch it fall apart. I've fallen before and it hurts. Hurt. Like the constant stabbing feeling in my heart; some unseen force squeezing me until the pressure in my head forces out tears. I think I know where it began, this "change." You saw my self-inflicted scars; the ones that sit on my skin with the weigh of the world. You saw tehm, saw that they were real, that my pain was real and when I laughed it off, you told me I'd "changed." Change, isn't the always it, change? Is that the easy way of saying- who the hell are you? You with the scars. Like that is all I am. Change is the moment that snowballs and takes aim at our friendship. Changeā€¦ followed by the goodbyes and "it was meant to be." Accept it. Fuck that, I don't have to. And who the hell do you think you are, our friendship is as much mine as it is yours. So who says you get to end it, what if I don't want to. Why do you want to?

So what you're saying is that we can't fix this. We can't get past this anonymity.

No more photos, no more sleepovers, no more roaming the mall with five dollars and nothing to buy. What the hell? I don't want to trade our friendship in for a lesson of life. I don't want to know that once things are said, they're not forgotten. I don't want to realize how much you really mean to me. I don't want to be forced to accept "change."

Why doesn't this scare you? The possibility that everything good we've shared could be over. Does the word over even phase you? Over. Why, why, WHY? It makes no sense to me. I am scared and you are not. You are accepting change, and I can not.