freedom is writing.

im figuring out a place for you in my head. its better than viewing our friendship as dead. I can't fathom why we both had to say the things we said or hold a silence so deafening it brought my ears to dread their ability to hear. Our memories need to be so far but still they are so near. I need to believe I have nothing to fear but I have this premonition that you're going to be again hurt and it's the last type of power I want to grant him to exert over you. Why can't you see I only gave the answer that you, for so long, were seeking and I never wanted to give it for fear of breaking the friendship we so haphazardly had put back together. Not very well as it appears you no longer want me near. How come people say "the truth will set you free", when it only plunges you further into regretting reality? I think purifying love is the only way our heads will truly let us see; within our arts we will only ever honestly be free.