Recovery

My Friend's Words

She doesn't talk about you anymore. Not like she used to. Now, when she hears your name, when someone brings you up, one of the few of us who know about you, she'll cringe and look at us with those eyes, those brilliant melancholy eyes of hers, and for a moment you think that all of the sadness of this world has been forced into this one body, this one heart that is so fragile and so close to shattering again. Then she'll put on a smile, one that's obviously so forced its nearly painful to see, hold her trembling hands, and change the subject. But she misses you, I can tell. Some days, she'll be looking out a window, or daydreaming in class and you can tell its you she thinks about. Her eyes kind of go sad, and she looks hurt. God she looks so hurt. That's how I know. That's how I figured it out. She doesn't just like you, she loves you. And she needs you, she needs you to care. You're the only one who matters anymore.