The breeze tosses your golden curls gently as you sit against a rock, looking out onto the fluctuating sea. Your gaze is intent, and I wonder if you’re on the verge of a great breakthrough. I guess I’ll never know.

I’ve been here for a while now. Here, watching you. Don’t take it in a creepy stalker sense—I’m just afraid to break your concentration. So I pace along in the sand hoping you’ll notice me soon, before I have to find my gut.

***

I hear you sigh in frustration. You never were very quiet, you know. I do see you, although you don’t think so. Where did your great courage run off to? Or has apathy swallowed it, just like it gulped down everything else of you?

I’m not turning around. Yet you hope I will. Why is that?

Oh never mind, here you come. The setting sun catches in your eyes as you approach me with caution. I chuckle inwardly. You look like you’re moving toward a hungry lion.

“Hey,” you say softly.

***

“Hi,” you say dully, glancing over at me with lost respect, like I’m wasting your time. What did I do to lose the admiration you used to show? Your brow furrows and you return your focus to the sun, about to be engulfed by the sea’s hazy horizon.

I can’t help but notice it’s quiet. The lapping of the waves makes the silence more obvious, rather than filling it. I struggle to come up with something to say, mentally kicking myself for the lack of preparation.

There’s so much I could say, so much I want to say—that I’ve changed, that I’m sorry for who I blindly transformed into. But that’s what you’re expecting, isn’t it? Knowing you, I know you would already have arguments against me. Knowing me, I’d let you convince me so. I need something safe…

***

“Nice weather, huh?” you ask, hoping I don’t hear the nervousness in your voice as it cracks.

I know you don’t care about the weather. You mean to say something else, something that actually matters. You mean to ask what’s happened between us. You might even apologize. But that’s not what I want. No, I’d like you to figure it out on your own. How else can I know you’ve overcome that monster that shadowed the real you?

Yes, I know. But you hardly do. You had so much control, knowing everything—strengths, weaknesses—but now here you sit, utterly and completely lost.

It’d be so easy to lash out at you. You’re so close to pieces, having your world pulled out from under you. I could probably convince you to believe anything. Despite what happened, I can’t bring myself to hurt you.

“Yes, it really is,” I reply with a deep sigh.