Yeah I Noticed It Too

You know? No matter what, I will always worry. I don't want to see you fall and give up. I will be hard on you, but it's only because it bothers me. There is a thing called being too nice. And it ends up hurting them. I have been trying to be more talkative at these things. It may hurt, but I am worried about what could happen to you. And I don't want to see you 20 years from now and miserable and hated/disliked. That is a problem. To continue and cover up the canvas over and over on each problem. Never really solving it. It's amazing how someone can go on so long and no one ever steps up and say "You need to stop." or "You are hurting yourself." or "You are hurting me." or "We are making a huge mistake."

Losing a friend again. Being oblivious to what others see as obvious. I don't know about myself except for one thing, but I do know about you. To see someone who is in college and rarely leaves her room to socialize. Someone who interrupts and keeps asking. Trying to get to know my friend's boyfriend so badly. So desperate. She is put on delay. "Yeah I heard you." "Uh not now." "Maybe later I'm busy."

Just say "___, I don't want to talk to you at this moment." "I need my space." Something to point out the obvious, because it is so draining. I see it. You are changing. She is draining you so badly. Though she is truelly unaware and no one tells her to stop. Only once I've heard and she thanked them. But she is still miserable and you are becoming it too. Don't.

I think you read this sometimes because there is no way I could have over 750 views with only two followers and one of them rarely goes on.

I am worried and I wish we could peel the layers of paint off and go back to that picture that was once so heartwarming. I wish I was like who I was (the good times of course) and I wish you were too (the good times also of course). I don't want us to disappear behind these layers of paint. Smothered with no oxygen.

The worst of all is to watch you turn into what scares me the most. It's what crumbles this wilting last piece of hope in my hands. The colors are not as alive as they use to be. They are crisp and bent over uncomfortably. I think I should change plans. In hope that that exactly makes it back with me because even though I am still who I am. I feel it.

I feel it.