disturbed waters

some time ago, you'd probably one of the first (and few) people i'd talk about it. oh, i know what would happen: i'd start a conversation circling the issue, and you'd know i was up to something. then you'd make the right question (you always made the right questions), and we'd talk for hours about it. i can almost guess what you'd say, you'd ask the right question again, and would tell me to be careful, to think it through, not to leap at it at once... but you'd be happy for me, and i dare say that secretly you'd be praying for everything to go right for me.

but not anymore.

now i can't tell you that. i dare not to. and you no longer ask the right questions, or any questions for that matter: the link between both of us has been broken, and where once existed a deep feeling of confidence now lies suspicion, mistrust and a ressentment that's running high and high. whether we have built a stone wall or dug an abyss between ourselves i do not know; but i know we've disturbed the waters too much, and that nothing will ever be the same.