I sit and I listen, your voice beaming back to me from a satellite out in space, still sweet, but tainted by the background noise.
I could sit here for hours, absorbing every syllable that passes your lips, living for every word that you speak.
But you don't want that, my silence always bothers you, and you gain length in words and lose the volume and urgency in which you deliver them.
You're bored of me, I haven't a thing to offer in return. My brain trips the panic button, I need to speak, I need to say something to keep you interested and in this very moment, all the gears turning over in my mind seize.
I am frozen, lost for speech and the image of me, uncaring, bored of you, not committed to the conversation is pressed deeper into your mind.
So I apologise, I stutter, then apologise again. It echoes back at me, I hear not even a breath from your end of the line, I have failed.
It shouldn't be a task to maintain a conversation, it's not like the landscape that is my mind is barren, it is bountiful with fruits of the mind, but I look upon it as if it is nothing but poison and rot. I see no worth in my words, I feel like I couldn't give them away for free.
Unlike you, whom I view with such love and admiration, your mind is beautiful, your thoughts are fresh and ripe, your gears, well oiled and turning freely.
I aspire to become the being that you are, or at the very least, share the space you're in.
But there is a greater distance between our emotional locations than there is between our physical ones, I feel for you in ways that have never occurred to me before, and you admire me for being a good friend.
I've burnt down the bridge, and upon this realisation I have thrown myself into the river, thinking that if I fight hard enough against the current, maybe I can reach the other side.
But I feel myself more standing on the shoreline, watching myself fail than I do feel myself under the water.
I have the wisdom to know better and to have not dived in, to remain dry and accept there is a bridge no more, but still, I find myself, drenched, flooded and quickly losing to the rapids.
All of this on my mind, whilst I struggle to come up with a single word to say to you on the phone, further digging my single width grave, further unraveling the strings that held together the best thing that I missed.
Let me sink.