Drift Away - Is It The End?

How can one slowly drift apart without trying, is that even possible?

Somehow despite on the surface everything looks fine, everything looks nice, somehow why does my heart tells me that something is slowly changing?

I miss the those little things that used to happened so spontaneously and happily at one point:

- the random messages

- the first good morning or the last good night

- the random food that I find at my door steps during oncall

- the need to always be there for me

- the staying up late nights just to wait for those last few messages

- the night calls which are so hard to come by these days

- the general feeling of being wanted, or needed, in someone's life

Can people drift apart without even trying? Or maybe was I delusional into thinking that something more could have come out from this? That the next step was possible? That somehow, I could have healed and moved on in this life?

Was I that naïve? Was I that blinded to think that maybe, I finally found someone who really suits me but in the end, it doesn't even matter? That somehow I would be stuck in this limbo, unsure of what am I to that other person.

Maybe I have come to visit this place too much, maybe now my presence is just like another normal thing in her life, maybe she just needs to "accommodate" me every time I come and it could be tiring, or even, something worst, for her.

And as much as I know her point of view, and her reasonings, somehow I just want to be included in her plans, in her outings, whenever she goes out with her friends, that I can be there as well. I guess my presence complicate things, there is no reason that can explain why am I even there, because there is none to begin with.

Because ultimately in the end, what are we? Nothing more than being good friends at this moment, and probably never will be more than that.

"Nice Guys Finish Last"

I never knew the real reason behind the lyrics of that song, now I do know. Maybe I have been too much of a nice guy, and hence, always finish last, always fail, even when I give it my all, it still falters. This is what it is meant to be in the end, to finish last, and alone, in a cold, rainy night in Stoke.