Sure, I'll come with you guys.

Yet one sentence left an open door to continue., paying the full price of what it means to find comfort in change. And when the year ends, when the sun sets on the final day of the year. You're safe, you're safe from separation.

Safe from the feeling of uncertainty when you must turn to the next page of your life. Knowing something is waiting on the other end, over a despicably shallow year gave birth to new beginnings. Will it stand the test of time? As the many questions asked, it will be up to time for its answer.

Unlike most things that happen at the end of the year, it wasn't a goodbye to be received. But time knew that it wasn't the last time, it gave clues enough to realize that there's still more for you here.. Knowing you further, no longer relying on seeing you, to speak with you. Perhaps you're used to it now, that something can end up ruining it.

That "Nothing will break this." Is just an idiom, a warning for the future. But this time it's not false hope, yet hopeless reality. Yet we stand here, we stand here and say it anyways, that nothing will break this, but everything can.

Youth saved us anyways, and our lack of perception and awareness of the circumstance didn't result in the execution of our friendships. But she meant well, she was the "Benevolent One" after all... That in her hand laid waste to the unkind future, not in control yet steering the wheel of silence over the direction away from the destination...

For you are not naive, you are not all-seeing. Yet you are all forgiving, this may be a glimpse into your vision. The vision of seeing how things end up, but you can't just believe in pessimistic virtues just because all things reach an end. But we're only a week away now, I wish to see you again. Much to continue the things we began.

As you found shelter in the arms of those two who have the same look of silence in your eyes. But what does it mean from now on? When things no longer have contact, will you remain? With the closing of the final page in this era of yours, will you finally say goodbye to the habit of disappearing from the people you no longer see?

Now we are only 4 days away, you know it right? Have you finally decided to stay? That 4 days from now, you'll still be around to serve the kind purpose of friendship? That it was the same length of time from the first moment you spoke without being academically asked to.

Three days from now, it will be the last, will you still speak the same way you introduced yourself as if no one was staring at you, as we found out your origins, as we mentioned your name? two days left, will you greet the same way you nodded the second day of class as a gesture of respect?

Reflecting your kindness in clear waters where you cannot see yourself and only the sediments below. 1 day from now, it will be the last. Will you still enter our life the same way you entered the classroom doors, and the clean halls leading to the stairs awaiting your final hour of class?

Will you stop and think to yourself, will you finally feel the essence of repentance through the things you promised prior? That tomorrow, when the sun rises, you will still be our friend? That tonight, when the sun sets, you'll still be in a state of glancing over the year that passed in the glimpse of an eye. Starting ever slower than the clock in the rye.

Oh for the benevolent one has now ceased to compromise the final moments, as the last. Yet has chosen to continue the journey, unbeknownst to her was hiding beneath the rocky shores.

But when do things matter? When they start to bloom from the soil or when they're at their tallest during the drizzles of rain? Perhaps when it's at the end of its life, wilting away at the scorching summer heat, as white turns to brown, and stain turns to rust. Going this far, even as orchids die out, and metal decays. You will face the consequences of forever being indifferent. Because change is the only thing constant in this world…

Summer flies by when you enjoy it.

From early mornings to afternoons that grew louder as our hours of playing ensued. The last day wasn't the last yet an exaggerated feeling, it can't be helped when the past repeats itself of suddenly seeing the friends you made are no longer there. Easy as it was to forget the reality of how things happen, it can't just be ignored.

Sometimes you would spend hours and hours trying to bag a win like your world has become "The" game. You'd laugh loosely over the mistakes you make, the mistakes your peers make. Recycling jokes, not a lot much to say yet a lot to laugh about, that in the event anything happens, we all laugh in harmony.

Harmonious to learn that it wasn't just limited to that, dear benevolent one oh how you have scattered from one to another, game to game. Dear benevolent one, maybe if we hadn't spoken to you that fateful day, then none of this would have happened. Down the drain came the late nights, speaking about life, but the once full of energy now blazing away slowly.

There's more to learn about you that few of us have gotten far enough to know about, you're no open book just laying around waiting for someone to turn the pages and murmur the words "How are you?". But no one hears those words often enough, you aren't safe from being forgotten as someone mysterious.

Curiosity about your history, would not stop, it needed to be answered. Letting us in your personal escape, either disastrous or consequential, neither of us will know. To you are more layers, not waiting to be peeled yet ever stable in making sure no one needs to know. Foundations have already been made for you, long before you came to this strange place.

Those foundations kept the need of building more as floors crumble the ones below when stacked too far above. Tower, was far from one, doing all the right rituals, having a head start. It still wouldn't be enough. We find excuses to hang out, the fun of asking you to play. It was clumsy yet we can't mention it, that even if all our thoughts are so tied to what we do, new ones arrive.

But we still played games anyway, joining in lobbies and potentially destructive servers. Slowly getting there, to personal things. Screwing around like the summer will last, re-enrolling again to meet Only an arm's length from you all time, is the phone you always fiddle around with. The same thing that dictates how you are, not you, the phone.

Anyone who tells you otherwise is to you a fool. That everyone who doesn't believe that only circumstances can dictate how someone ends up is a fool. All but a fool, yet here you are hammering at the very beliefs you lived your life solely to believe, shattered in front of you.

"Stop!"

Things get too complicated beyond that point, things get more than complicated beyond a certain point.

Descendant of what was before, a bounty to get to know you was out. What the prize, only the successful bounty hunter would know... The headaches, the heartaches, it was yet both pain nonetheless of trying before the summer ends.

Trial and errors, the reality became the game. So will you place this game? Or let it die out when the vision of what it can be no longer exists? Let it be washed away by rain, but leaves don't fill the gutter, utter my words that you will be gone and maybe this is the year.

That the umbrella was not to keep yourself dry, yet to keep the rain from seeing how the fabric of your hood feels. Nonetheless, your eyes feel melancholic. We met a lot of people, almost as much as the metaphors we exchanged to keep it lively. Even seeing people who we never thought would come back returning to the place.

And so the summer ends…Seeing the leaves again, after months, knowing how it was maintained. That civic duties have passed over to keep the place in top shape. Tiles repaired with spare concrete, friends, seen. But only in another section.

The ground filled with orange leaves seemingly looks like autumn even though it's all just dried-up fragments of the previous chlorophyll empire. We don't have autumn, and in a billion years when the tectonic plates shift upwards and sidewards, below and wherever.

Maybe we will, but by then we'd only be memories if even any of us will remain. So seeing you again, felt nothing anymore. Very well knowing you'd be there again, it was a small glimmer of hope. How much better can we make this than the last? And that was only the beginning, now we have a head start!

But as the saying around children goes, different places mean too far apart to be connected. With the two fools that you found refuge in, and the two others you came here with. It was content, soon at last the opportunity to be reunited with them had come for you.

But the very melancholy still brewed from your eyes, dim like a basement filled with cobwebs and the cellar spiders that feed off your memories. But as expected we drifted off, away. It was part of the process that we longed to fear. The temporary days off. Chances kept going in, new chances this time, and meeting people ever slowly began.

As perhaps we construct our redemption of temporary vows and temporary places. But memory lane isn't just a museum for nostalgia, it's a reminder for us to cherish the moments. Optimism at least grew from it, like evergreen, surviving the harsh winter of being apart. The golden years of life indeed, but optimism wasn't blind.

What flew over everyone's head was you continuously falling, how could they not when every day they heard something new? New issues arise, replacing yesterday's batch of conspiracies. Spiraling below was you, being trapped in your mind, it was far. You look below you and see nothing but black, the sound of it whaling above and beyond your head. Sure you were at home, but home can easily be just a house in a snap.

One snap was back to silence. The same silence that kept you from being hurt, is now the silence that left you unable to express how things felt. While you began liking this person silently, it couldn't help knowing he liked someone else. You had to give it to him for both of you to thrive. Beforehand it was okay, all was okay, well, and manageable. But now you're unable to muster up the strength to fight it back.

Sure it was never powerful enough to overthrow you, but you still grew further anyways. Further from that tunnel's edge, further from the light unable to know if you will dodge this bullet, that maybe the beauty of being okay again was just a dream. Forgetting about you…

A dream you cannot see., you weren't alone, Many others were with you, but with you falling beside you! Trying to find it. Who will know? Who will know about it? Nobody will, everyone will be too preoccupied to try and know. To fit it in their time as people.

But you were human, and everything you felt was real. So how come something as such collapse? We're only months away now, months away from what seemingly acted like the true end. This is it, this was really it.

That we'd forget whatever happened before to favor the self. It wasn't all dull, there was always the occasional laughter when rain fell as everyone would huddle up to speak about stories. Where the echoes left an opportunity for people to sing together. Restoring things, but only temporarily, we have grown older now, unearthing the reality of what it takes to feel and how to feel well again.

Were those things you said, meant well? Knowing they were true and you were temporary. Erasing it, because forgetting yourself is easier for everyone.

"And everyone needs it more", you say. Why do you always favor everyone like this?! Why do you always leave yourself behind?

As if all disease was yours. Just yours, speeding it like it was never in arms reach. But they prevailed, who knows if those memories you forget were part of the grand scheme of things. However you are., you are part of the grand scheme of things. Yet still you fell, ledge to ledge trying to go down the line if there's anything at the bottom.

No longer able to save yourself looking at the top. It just becomes more and more unreachable. As if every time you finally get a hand at the top, just a second before you reach it, it retreats back to safety. That it rears itself only to feel like there's hope for you.

But that's your own hand, trying to pull you out yet ending up helping someone else before you reach it. What will carry you on if you don't have a place for yourself in that classroom of yours? Was the man heaven sent also suffering?

That the troublemaker is sinking knee-deep in the drama amidst all. The news had spoken, beyond us, beyond here, and beyond the people we knew. Having a lustful taste of getting out yet having an inviting comfort that kept you in. that hole.

Don't you wish to go back? To the quiet dead air, so you don't have yourself to lose. Because who will really think through before all things go to hell, before the rain goes to downpour, and the trees holding the leaves that welcomed you, fall to the ground in anguish? As if you're trying to survive, just survive, never live. And you ask why?

"Why do I know this was going to happen?" Where did you lack to get this low? Seeing relationships fail left and right, seeing the countless drama that ensured you were always fed up with everyone.

Always wanting to go home, to stay home. Going so bad to know that even those you knew were caught up, taking toll after toll. The news had nothing better to offer, than seeing things spread over to people. Seeing the onslaught of disease, seeing the "Golden days of our lives!".

Yet again robbed from us by circumstances. You simply looked at the flood of moments, the rain that was safe-guarding the umbrella had poured too much, too little too late to walk. Looking for meaning, finding meaning in the remnants of what was. The bleak normal conversations, the few things that made things feel normal.

Oh dear benevolent one, stay. Stay, stay, stay, and stay… It's turbulent now, but surely the horizon is not worse. That something there is waiting. It's time to rest now, they suspended the class after all, and maybe in that ample week, you usher the words.

"It can't get any worse than this can it?" Oh yes, it can…