She wondered when, how, and why they have distanced themselves from her. Expectation and hopes no longer lingered around; the simplest of hi became foreign to her ears; the polite smiles washed and fade away. She was, but only transparent - when she overheard them talking to a colleague, or saw them fluttered past like a butterfly, or when they trotted upfront, or they, who were so close to even be known as aliens. They represented the whole twenty-seven.
Why have it gone so wrong? The question troubled her. The impending eight more months horrified her. She had no desire to spending more time together. Space and time had no quality. She wanted to call a quit, if ever. She was willing to let loose. She had never felt this way, and she hated it.
It's not about who's right, or who's wrong
It's not about who's weaker, or who's strong
It's not about who's innocent, or who's fault
It ain't really 'bout that kind of thing at all
It's not about who does it, or done it, or did it to who
Don't matter if the both of you lose
... the lyrics played by her ears. Ain't about pride and self, ain't about the hurt and the lies, she reminded herself. It's all about drama, and love and relationships. It's all about drama, and trust, and making it. If your somebody messed up, you took it in. You held on, and be strong.
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