"Where are you, Sarah? I know you're in there."

It's hard writing this, knowing that you will read it. It's harder still, knowing that I shan't be able to take it back. But, some things have to be said, and if I can't manage to say them directly, then indirectly will have to manage.

Inside of every person lurks some dark, cancerous spot that wails and cringes when brought to the surface. For me, that poisonous ulcer has become my memory of you. It spreads, when I am careless, to infect my thoughts, leaving me choking with anger and regret.

It comes down to something quite simple: I don't know you anymore -- you don't know me anymore. I often wonder if we ever did or if the people we knew were only a chimera of what we wanted so badly to see. We have meant a great deal to each other over time, and filled many different roles in each other's lives. Friend, lover, sibling, enemy, you have been all of this to me, and something more that defies wording or classification.

I don't want it to be this simple. I don't want to look back and see a clear time line unraveling. I don't want to see you and know you are a stranger to me. I don't want our friendship to flicker and fade out. I don't want to just let things dissolve until nothing, not even anger, remains. But, I don't think it matters what I want.

Things are that simple. The thread that bound us to closely together has unraveled and been swept away. You know me less each day without recognizing the stranger in my words. The light of our friendship has long since dimmed so as to be indiscernible. That which was "us" has dissolved until only anger remains. And, that is fading.

"Where are you, Sarah? I know you're in there."

Sarah doesn't live here anymore -- I'm sorry.

Wendy