Pulling away.

I peel off the paint on the wall of the room, and remember that this space used to be yours. Seeing green become white feels like taking off the cover on the eyes of a witness to all those moments in the past, all of them happy, at least in my memory. You look so different now, and I feel so clueless what your ways are and how your mind works. And sometimes that just feels so sad, remembering that I used to know you so well. Or, silly me, so I thought. But my most difficult pain is not that time has made you seem like a stranger, but because now you purposely are making yourself one, pulling yourself away from us so that we all fall apart into nothing but our own selves, forgetting where we've come from and remembering only the wrongs. You are my biggest heartache.