In the game of pictionary, I was made to draw a portrait of yours. I picked up the paint and tried to do so. Seeing my hand shivering, I just planned to step down because the perfection cannot be drawn; it can only be felt. And that feeling to me seemed lost somewhere in the air due to the long gaps because of the sickness prevailing in your body.
"Isn't it weird How can you go from being everything to nothing in the blink of ignored text messages. You can talk for months or even years, about everything & nothing. You can know more about each other than anyone has ever known before. And then one day One of us decides it is enough And then stop replying, And then stop trying, And it's just over. No words to break it off. No heartfelt goodbye's. Just a bunch of broken promises and the stories that will never find their endings. It's just cut off and we go on with our lives. AND NEVER BOTHERED TO LOOK BACK."
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