Do You Remember?

She is a ghost of who she used to be, but still as naive. She's fading away, right before our unbelieving eyes, but she will never know. We try to reach out and grab her back, but she merely slips between our fingers, like the teardrops we refuse to weep.

She used to be intelligent, but now, merely a shell of the girl we knew and loved. She's too far gone to save, but save we must. Still, she slips away, choosing to be the disappointment, the home wrecker, the other woman, the stranger in our lives.

Her eyes are dull; I see no life within them. Her laughs and smiles are forced; but, that's only if they choose to appear. She's temperamental, selfish, vain, and blind, but she does not see that. She believes she's justified, no regrets for her actions or hurtful words. Most certainly, no regret for her cheating ways. She can not- will not, see the obvious. Rather, she chooses to defend him, the source of her looming downfall.

Her lies are sugarcoated, meant to help us; never to protect her, but everyone knows that's bullshit. We see through her, but she'll pretend not to notice.

She's tempted by the pleasure she's never experienced; the lust that's never been satiated. And she chooses to run, regardless of the danger. She has no concerns for neither his age nor his marital status. All she can see is him; his words meant to draw her in- secretly dripping with venom.

And she holds her closest friends at arm's length, only to welcome him with open arms. She's infatuated, obsessed- just the way he wants her. He'll take her; take what she's so freely offering him, and toss her aside when he's had his fill, but she won't believe because he's promised her the world.

"There were no promises made," she said, while wearing his promise ring on her finger. A promise of marriage, of happiness, of children, of a chance to escape. A promise of all her dreams. He's swept her off her feet and she's uncontrollable, spiraling into a path of no return.

She thinks it's love, he knows it's lust- provoking sympathy has always been his trump card. She's become the person she never wished to be. "I'm a small person, but with a big heart." I read it before; I read it once again, and saddens me for it no longer applies. The tears well in my eyes, threatening to spill- but I refuse to allow it. I know, that once they fall- they will never stop.

She used to say that I was her hero, but what good is a hero if I can't save her? She is older than I, but I have always been the older sister; sworn to protect, guide, and advise. But I can't, for I can not help those who do not wish to be helped. And there is a part of me that wishes she will never see this, but another part wishes that she would. Perhaps then, she would understand.

She would understand the tears we've shed for her, the hours we've spent attempting, without success, to grasp her back. And the dread in our anxiously racing hearts, and the times we've spent reminiscing of the girl we loved. She would understand that we no longer know the person she has become- a world of secrets locked within heart and mind; a world we are not welcome to. Perhaps then, she would understand.

And when all has been said and done, I only wish to ask her, "do you remember the girl you used to be? Do you?

Because I do.

And you are not her.

Not anymore."

And perhaps when that moment comes, it will be time to bid her farewell; wish her luck in good decisions and a wonderful life, before I turn my back and walk out the glass door- never to return. I'd rather keep the memories of the best friend I knew, than to tarnish it further with the ghost of her.

"Do you remember now?

Because I still do."