evaporation

I used to be able to talk endlessly to you and you. Sometime, somewhere along the way, that changed, even though we pledged not to let that happen and that things would be different, and yes, things are different. But they are different, in the way that they are the same as the dusty friendships we have all kept on the cobwebbed shelf in our lives thus far. And I'm not sure what to make of that. To be brutally honest, I expected it and thus, allowed things to happen by being passive about it. Sadness? Well, not really. It is just that a small regretful ache throbs whenever the cursor hovers over your and your name in MSN Messenger. I just cannot bring myself to click on it, as I had done countless times before. Some friends, you can not talk to them for ages and ages, but meeting them again, be it face-to-face or through lagging text-messaging or capitalised conversations, makes you feel home again and the topics flow like swelling rivers. I guess you and you and I are drought-hit without regulated irrigation.