3:20AM

Black & White.

The last time we talked, you said you were getting our old apartment painted. I laughed it off as if I didn't care about the memories on the wall being painted over. I told you it was a good idea, and that blue wasn't your colour anyway. You agreed in silence, not being able to hold the conversation any longer. So, we kept our feelings oblivious, hidden behind the mask of "Just Friends", and pretended that the permanent silence of our seperate apartments didn't scare us at all. As I hung up, I stared at the photo-frame on the wall behind my bed. We were looking at each other with an insane passion still alive in our eyes in that. I hated the fact that when I moved in here, the frame was already hanging on the wall. My decorator had found it in one of my boxes and thought it would go perfectly there. When I first entered the room after the apartment was ready, I had looked at the picture for about twenty minutes, trying to decide what to do with it. Every night, it haunted me above my head. Even with the lights off, I could hear our old selves from the picture screaming at me, asking me all kinds of questions about our broken bond. It was torturing. Every morning, I would stand up on my bed and would try to remove the frame. But my hands never found the will to actually go through it. So yeah, it shocked me how you had the will to paint our apartment a new colour altogether. Didn't the kitchen walls call on you to not paint over the stains my horrible cooking left on them. I still couldn't understand. Then one day, I saw your new profile picture with the apartment in the background. Everything was black and white. A smirk subtly made its way to my lips. Tell me darling, did the blues become too gloomy that you finally found your calmness in the black and white? I understand. Sometimes, I do it too. Don't we all sometimes become black and white?