The Silent Masquerade

Pretending to pretend to pretend to pretend to pretend

Original piece - Mask Of Silence (Reed pen, red and black ink)

That you don't ache for him the way he aches for her.

The Invisible Line

Sometimes, you look at someone who's probably the closest thing to you since God-knows-what, and you can't help wondering if it's all just fizzled out. The spark that was so alive when you were just getting to know each other, it seems to have gone out. Conversations seem to run dry faster than ever, fading away in a sick spiral of curtness and cool detachment. Is it because you no longer have an obligation to be engaging? Is it because you both take the friendship for granted? Is there an invisible line that you somehow cross when you grow too close after which the only choice is to grow apart?
Sometimes, if you're lucky, you're close enough to risk asking those questions. And sometimes, if you're lucky, you get just the right answer. The answer that puts everything into perspective. The answer that you never knew you needed to hear.

"Tell me something."
"Ask."
"Why are we friends?"
"Because we're there for each other."

And that invisible line you were so afraid of crossing? That's the beautiful part. It's when you cross that line that your relationship ceases to revolve around how much you have in common, or how well you get along, or even how similar your sense of humour is. Once you cross that line, it's about how much you care.
How willing you are to be there for each other.
Nothing more, Nothing less.

Of Ember and Flame

She turns her eye inwards, if only for a moment.
Ashes and dust. Dust and ashes. That's all she sees.
She can almost taste them, too. In the back of her throat.
They taste of regret and words unsaid. He doesn't know this, and he probably never will, but there are embers still burning under her deceptively placid layer of ashes and dust. Dust and ashes.
And if you look hard enough, you see they're still alive, with a quiet, muted glow. They're still waiting, it seems. No matter how much she wants them to stop, to just fade away, they refuse to. They're waiting for him to breathe life into them, so they can glow that much brighter. Ember to flame. Flame to inferno.